Your Tears Are Empty
by scratchtheplans
Summary: After Aderyn's family died, she secluded herself from the world. When she meets Tristan, she thinks he's the most infuriating person she has ever known. But in actuality, they are a lot more alike than they know. They both just want to be free.
1. Dead Star, Shine

**Welcome to yet another one of my wonderful stories! :D**

**This is going up earlier than planned, as I had meant to put it up when my story for Titanic was finished, but I had a change of heart. Plus, I just really like this one. I have ten chapters written, twenty to go after that, and a sequel that already has bits and pieces written. This is pre-movie, only a few months before their discharge. :)**

**So for those of you who are not familiar with my writing, this is how it goes: I put the chapter up, I give you an amount of reviews at the end, and I will not post another chapter until that quota is met. I don't want to waste my time posting something that nobody really gives a crap about, and it gives me guidelines for when I should be updating. I'm never unfair with the amount I ask for. I'll never ask for twenty reviews for a chapter that's only a thousand words long. What can twenty people say about something so short?**

**Actually, that doesn't apply to me. I would never put up a chapter with less than a thousand words. xP I'm picky like that.**

**Each chapter title is a line in the song "Give Me A Sign" by Breaking Benjamin. I was listening to it one day, and I kind of dreamt up a relationship the song would go with. This is the end result of that. :P**

**So, read on, loves, and I really hope you like this as much as I like writing it!**

_"Slowing down, I look around, and I am so amazed. I think about the little things that make life great. I wouldn't change a thing about it. This is the best feeling. This innocence is brilliant. I hope that it will stay. This moment is perfect. Please don't go away. I need you now, and I'll hold onto it. Don't you let it pass you by."-Avril Lavigne_

"Run, Addi!" my sister, Melita, giggled as we both went charging through the underbrush. I let out a squeal of delight as I listened to the sounds of feet pounding behind us, giving chase. I reached over without thinking, and clutched Melita's hand tightly in mine. She was four years younger than me, only six winters old, so it was instinctual for me to protect her.

"ADERYN!" the boy chasing us roared my name as he catapulted through the trees. Melita screeched, and we ran harder. I was out of breath, but I pushed through the burning in my chest.

The trees of our forest blurred past me and molded together like runny paint on a canvas. The leaves crunched beneath my feet, and the thick furs I wore to keep warm fanned behind me like a cape. I held my arms out at my sides and imagined they were wings. This was the closest I would ever get to flying.

I realized I could no longer hear footfalls behind me, and slowed, forcing Melita to do the same. We stood side by side, both panting as we scanned the forest for any sign of Ursus.

"I think we lost him," I decided quietly. Just as I got the words out, something slammed into my side with the force of a charging bear. I screamed, but it quickly turned to fits of laughter as my attacker started to tickle me.

"Stop, Ursus!" I shouted, trying to push my older brother off of me. He just continued his merciless assault on my sides. He had a large quantity of mud on the side of his face and caked in his dark brown hair, and it was dripping onto my front as he hovered over me.

"Don't…ever…throw dirt…at me…again!" he yelled, punctuating each word with a poke at my sides.

"You big brute, Ursus!" Melita cried, slamming a stick she'd found down on his back. He yelped, and rounded on her. I bucked and threw him off, sending him flat on his back. Melita leapt on him with a roar like a baby mountain lion, and started to tickle him just as he had me. Before he could throw the much smaller girl off of him, I jumped on top of him to aid her.

He yelled for us to get off, but we didn't relent. "T-T-TRUCE!" he finally gasped. I smirked as I let go of him, rolling so I laid on the ground on his left.

"Truce or not, we have won yet again," I told him as Melita landed on his other side. The three of us stared up at the tree tops. It was autumn now, so no leaves blocked our view of the wide open sky, bluer than any time I'd seen it before.

"There aren't even any clouds," Ursus observed. I nodded.

"It's pretty," Melita said in a finalistic way, like hers was the final verdict. I just smiled. My life was a good one. I had two loving parents, best friends in both of my siblings, and a home in the middle of this forest. Although we were miles away from any civilized village, it had never mattered to us. We had everything we needed on this land: animals to hunt for meat and fur, a stream to get water, wood for fire, and each other for company.

Ursus suddenly bolted upright and I flinched, thinking he would tickle me again. Instead he just stared straight ahead, through the trees we'd come from.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered.

"Hear w-"

I held out my hand, stopping Melita mid-question. It was faint, but I knew what it was the second I'd heard it. It was a sound many heard just before death, and their loved ones would hear it years after in their nightmares. The sound was drums…war drums.

"MOTHER!" Ursus roared, leaping up and charging through the forest.

"Stay here, Melita!" I commanded, taking off after my brother before she could protest.

We ran like people possessed. We had gone much further from home than I'd initially realized. Every step I took, the drums grew louder until they were nearly deafening. When they stopped, I was so shocked that I tripped and went sprawling across the ground. Ursus kept going, and I tried to stand. When I put my weight on my right arm to lift myself, an incomprehensible pain shot through it. I cried out and fell back down, tears stinging in my eyes.

Rolling onto my back, I lifted my hand into my view. It sat at an odd angle, and was already swelling impossibly fast. I knew it was broken, but there was nothing I could do about it right then. I stood, and continued my mad sprint back to the small house I'd lived in my whole life while clutching my wounded arm gingerly to my chest.

I could hear screaming, and the sounds of people throwing things around. I stopped just before the clearing my house sat in the middle of, and pressed my back to a tree. Masculine laughter reached my ears, but it sounded cruel and mocking, unlike my father's deep boom and my brother's mad cackle. I peered around the tree, and my breath caught. There were hundreds of huge men dressed in dirty furs and battle armor standing around my home. I didn't see my father or my mother, but I clearly saw Ursus: he was lying dead at the feet of a large man with a bald head and a brown beard that made him look like a half-shaved lion. The brutish man kicked his body to the side like it weighed nothing, and I had to stifle my cry of grief when his severed head completely separated from his body on impact.

"Look at this!" The voice scared me out of my wits. It came from just behind me, and when I went to turn, I was pulled up by my hair. I screamed, but he was already dragging me forward. The barbarian threw me at the feet of the lion-man who'd murdered my brother, and I twisted so that I wouldn't land on my bad wrist.

On my back, I gazed at the brute before me. His eyes were black and beady, and it worried me that there was nothing in them, no feeling at all. It was like looking into a dead man's eyes crammed into a living man's head.

"Another Briton," the man who'd dropped me said carelessly. I noticed the way the rest looked at the lion-man with reverence that bordered on fear, and I knew that he had to be their leader.

He grunted boredly, and turned to look at something. I followed his gaze, and gasped. My father's body was propped up against a tree, an arrow through his heart. I sobbed freely on the ground, unaware of the men's disgusted looks directed at me. My father and brother were dead. I didn't know where my mother was, and my sister was probably scared out of her mind in the forest we just came from. I prayed she had the sense to hide. Only minutes ago, I'd been plotting with her to throw a huge ball of mud at our older brother because of how he boasted of his nonexistent battle skills. How had this happened?

"Shut up!" the leader finally snapped, kicking me in the shoulder. I choked on my sobs and gasped in pain. My arm dangled uselessly now, seemingly detached from the socket. He grabbed a handful of my dark brown waves, and pulled me up to look at him. Blue eyes met black, and I stared him down. Tears still leaked out from the corners, and I knew he could see my fear. He reached up with the hand that wasn't entangled in my hair and clutched my chin.

"Pretty, for a poor little wench," he said casually. I struggled a little, and he clutched my chin tighter. "It's a good thing you showed up. There was no way the one we already have could sustain all of the men."

There were agreeing murmurs, and then a feminine scream from inside the house that emphasized his words.

"MOTHER!" I yelled. I got a harsh slap across my face, but I continued to struggle. I was thrown back onto the ground, but he held one foot down on my throat when I tried to stand.

"Put her with the other one, and do with them what you will," the leader said. The chuckles I heard now held even more evil than the laughter I heard earlier. A sense of foreboding washed over me like a harsh wind, and I was grabbed by my ankle and dragged into the small hut I lived in. My nails clutched the ground, trying to anchor myself. My hand scraped across a tree root, and I whimpered from pain when a couple of my nails were ripped clean from my fingers.

My mother was on the floor in the middle of the room. Her dress was hiked up to her hips, and there was a man on top of her. To my naïve mind, it looked like he was simply writhing on top of her. An accidentally overheard conversation between my father and brother swept through my head, and I realized what he was doing to her.

"ADERYN!" she screamed when she saw me. She fought as hard as possible, sobbing uncontrollably as she did so.

"Shut up, wench!" the man growled. She spit in the his face, and he backhanded her so hard that she was knocked out.

"Mother!" I cried again, scrabbling crazily against the ground in my attempts to free myself.

"Your mother can't save you now," the man who'd originally found me growled as he dragged me to my parents' bedroom, slamming the door behind us. He tossed me on the bed like I weighed as much as a feather, and I nearly bounced right back off.

I didn't understand why he brought me here until he was suddenly on top of me, kissing all over my face and neck. I screamed, crying with renewed fervor, and attempted to throw him off of me with every ounce of strength I had. My wrist and shoulder protested against my struggles, but it was in vain. The man was much too large for only a ten year old to fight off. I stopped struggling when it proved futile and just stared at the ceiling.

In that moment, I gave up.

/\/\/\/\/\

I lost count of the amount of men who came and went from the room. It seemed like hours that I laid there with my legs spread, praying for death. I said nothing, did nothing but try and imagine that I wasn't there. I was still on the ground in the woods with Melita and Ursus, and I had fallen asleep. When I woke up, I would run home and cry in my mother's arms about it while she told me that it was impossible because we lived so far away from anywhere that we couldn't be found. Then papa would promise to kill any man who ever thought of hurting me, and we would go back to our lives. This was a dream, a nightmare of the worst possible kind.

I noticed when the flow of men stopped, but I did not move. I stared at the ceiling, not wanting to look down and see the effects of so many men's assault all over me. I was no longer afraid. I was ready to die. I would join my family in the afterlife.

I heard voices, but ignored the words they spoke. I heard the door creak open, but I didn't look at who entered. I felt whoever it was crawl onto the bed, and their silence surprised me. They usually spoke to me, trying to entice movements or sounds from me. I would play dead, and they would seem to find it amusing or they'd hit me because of my insolence.

A hand flashed into my vision, and my chest seared with pain. I looked down, and saw the dagger sticking out of the right side of my chest. The bald leader was the man on the bed, and he just looked at me when I locked eyes with him. He said nothing, only got off the bed and left.

I heard horses neighing, and a man shouting orders. I stared at the blood welling up around the wound, and raised my hand to clutch the knife in it. I would surely die now. It was impossible for me to live with a wound like this. I heard a very loud scream, and only realized it was me when it ceased.

The sound of a stampede of hoof beats galloping away filtered past my haze of pain. The barbarians were leaving. They'd taken all that they wanted. I gasped, trying to block the pain out of my brain. I was starting to lose the ability to breathe. Consciousness started to slip, and I prepared to die.

I lived a short life. It wasn't very eventfully or meaningful, but it was not lacking in any sense. I'd been loved by my family, and loved them in return. We took care of each other, and we were as close knit as any group of people could be. We were poor financially but rich in things that many people couldn't understand. The fact that I had lived at all was a blessing.

I heard the creak of the door opening, and thought it was just my imagination until a face loomed into my increasingly blurred vision. A woman stood over me, pulling things out of a bag at her side. She said something, but her words were foreign to my ears. I wondered if she was making sense, but it was being muddled in my addled brain. Her skin even looked…blue.

The pain was overwhelming, and my eyes wouldn't stay open. I felt the knife being wrenched from my chest just before I fell into oblivion.

**So...so? ;D What do you think?**

**It's a bit dark, which is very 'me'. Admittedly, I'm quite twisted.**

**So only two reviews until more? Please? Come on, it takes one click, a bit of typing, and another click! I promise it's worth it! :D**

**Hope you all have good weekends. (:**


	2. Light Up the Sky

**Yeeeeeeah, buddy. ;) I love it when the reviews come the next day. It means I update faster. :D**

**So thanks to those of you who reviewed. When the story is over, I'll make a big list of you all to be thanked properly. (:**

**Enjoy, my little beauties. ;D**

_"Can the lonely take the place of you? I sing myself a quiet lullaby. Let you go, and let the lonely in to take my heart again. Broken pieces of a barely breathing story. Where there once was love, now there's only me and the lonely."-Christina Perri_

Could death really be so…achy? Mother always said that death was a magical place where nothing bad could happen, and it was impossible to feel pain. Death was release, not something to be feared. That was what I had always known. Was it all a lie? Because I felt like I'd been hit by a falling tree.

I assessed everything quickly, and realized that I was still in my body. I wondered how long it would take for my soul to depart it. Ursus said the soul departed right away. If that were true…

My eyes snapped open, and my suspicions were confirmed. I was not dead. I was lying in the bed that I had been in when I'd gone to sleep, my parents' bed…

My parents were dead. My brother was dead. My sister was…

"MELITA!" I screamed. It came out hoarse and croaky. I tried to sit up, but an intense agony seared through my chest. I gasped as I collapsed back down onto the bed.

"Stop, child," said a motherly voice with a strange accent. "You will tear your stitching."

I recoiled at the unfamiliarity, and my eyes found a woman standing next to my bed. She was tall, unlike any other woman I had met. Her face was youthful still, but had signs of the first wrinkles starting to show. Her hair was jet black and voluminous, but the leaves and twigs stuck in the tangles made her look feral. Her eyes were nearly black, but the warmth in them made you overlook that. She was wearing an odd sort of outfit: a tight leather tunic that the sides had been ripped out of to reveal whole patches of her stomach, and brown breeches. The most notable things about her though were the most obvious: she had a multitude of strange signs on her body, and her skin was painted blue. So it hadn't been my imagination, there really had been a blue woman above me when I passed out.

I started to cry from fear of her. I knew she was a Woad. They'd always overlooked our family, not seeing us as a threat because of our mundaneness. I wasn't sure if that would change now that I was defenseless and alone. Would they see me as vulnerable and try to hurt me too? All I wanted was for my father to be here to protect me.

"Hush," she whispered soothingly, wiping my tears away with one calloused finger. "You are safe, dear one. I will not harm you." I wasn't sure if she was lying, so I just continued to sob. She eyed me piteously, and said something in her native language.

"You were badly wounded," she said quietly, like she was trying not to frighten me further. "I managed to stop the blood loss in your chest, and I administered a mixture to stop your pain."

"Who are you?" I asked between sobs.

"I am Drenna," she said, an air of regality slipping over her like a veil. "I am the sister of Merlin, leader of the Woads."

I just gawked at her. Was she some sort of princess? I eyed her clothing critically. Melita had put it into my imagination that princesses wore gowns with huge skirts that fanned out almost too wide to be imaginable. This woman did not look like a princess.

"Where's my family?" I whimpered, the memories of them flooding back at the thought of Melita.

Her face softened. "They did not make it," she said soberly.

"My mother?" I questioned, unable to believe it. She shook her head, tears already welling up in her eyes. I had seen Ursus's and my father's bodies for myself, so I didn't even have to ask. "My sister?"

"I did not find a little girl," she admitted, and I felt a relief like I'd never experienced. I had one person left.

"I need to find her," I said, pushing myself up. It hurt immensely, but this was Melita, my baby sister. I would not leave her in the woods to die. I sat up, noticing that she'd taken my dress off.

"You must rest," Drenna said insistently, trying to push me back down. In a flash of boldness, I slapped her hand away.

"She is my little sister!" I snapped. "I will not leave her!"

I picked up the bloodstained dress from the ground and painfully pulled it over my head. When I started to walk, I found that I couldn't really move my legs. I tumbled to the floor, wailing in agony. Drenna rushed to me, and helped me up.

"Stubborn girl!" she spat, irritated. "At least let me assist you."

I allowed her to tow me to the main room of my house, and started to sob again when I saw the bodies of my mother, father, and brother laid out peacefully next to each other. It was like they were just sleeping, besides the bloody stains on their fronts. My mother's throat was slit. I felt the bile rise, but I shoved it back down. That couldn't happen now. Melita was waiting for me.

Drenna led me through the forest, cursing in her language and muttering constantly of children being much too mature nowadays. I ignored her, pushing myself through the blinding pain, Melita's face clear in my mind as I struggled to stay conscious. The vision of her spurred me onwards.

I saw a huddled shape in the distance, and shouted, "Melita!" The prone form did not stir.

I tried again the closer we got, but she didn't move. I knew it was her, for she was wearing the blue dress mother had given her for her birthday only three months ago. She'd tried to wear it every day since then. I guessed she must have fallen asleep while waiting for us, being bored with nothing to do. She always did enjoy sleep entirely too much. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Drenna, but I ignored it.

Dread filled my heart when I called for her when we were only about ten feet from her. She still didn't move. I kept telling myself she'd always been a deep sleeper. This was no different.

I stumbled out of Drenna's grip, and fell on my knees next to my sister. Her back was facing me; her dark hair sprawled across the fallen leaves behind her. I grabbed her shoulder, and turned her over. I screamed at what I saw.

An arrow protruded from her throat, and blood soaked the front of her dress. The weapon had the same strange brown feathers at the end, and I knew she'd been killed by the same men who'd taken the rest of my life from me. She was freezing cold in my arms as I cried over her. Her blue eyes were wide open, glazed over in death. I let out a loud cry of desolation that echoed through the forest.

A blue hand appeared, and shut her eyes for the last time. That same warm hand rested on my shoulder, and Drenna whispered, "I am sorry."

"They are all gone!" I gasped through my sobs. "My whole f-f-family!"

She knelt beside me, and encased me in her arms. I saw some of the blue paint smudging on my skin, but paid it no heed. What did a little stain matter now? Everything I had was gone. My family was dead, my innocence was destroyed, and I had no knowledge of how to fend for myself.

I was utterly alone.

/\/\/\/\/\

Drenna stayed with me that whole week while I slowly started to recover. I'd overexerted a bit when I'd gone to find Melita, which resulted in a fever, but I was still doing better.

A few Woads came to see Drenna. She would talk to them in her language, and they would leave. The first Woad that came was a man. I was overcome by such a violent flashback of what had happened before the barbarians left that Drenna told the man that no male messenger was to visit her again. After that, they only sent females who weren't allowed in the room. They would enter the main room, and whistle to announce their presence. It made me feel much better.

Drenna told me stories of her tribe, the one she lead that was closest to my home. She would explain her tattoos to me, and even taught me some of her language. I clung to her as a mother figure, and she didn't seem to mind. She had no children of her own or a man to have them with, so she doted on me as she would a daughter of her own.

I ached every day with the memory of my family. It was like my chest was sliced wide, my heart beating in the open air. The hole was much too large to close. Whenever Drenna looked at me, I could see my pain mirrored in her eyes, like she could see the scars on my heart.

We buried my family in a small hollow underneath a willow tree. Drenna said prayers in her language that I didn't really understand, and she forced me to lean against a tree so I wouldn't further injure myself. I didn't cry, surprisingly. I was so exhausted from weeping all night that it was like I'd lost the ability to shed tears. There were no more left to shed.

"Drenna?" I asked, voice hoarse with the pain I still felt from my wounds. It was nighttime, and she was handing me a bowl filled with steaming soup. She smiled warmly.

"Yes, Aderyn?" she said, settling in a chair next to me so she could eat as well.

"What will happen when I am well?" I asked, staring determinedly at my bowl.

"Hmm," she started, "I hope you won't have any permanent damage. You should be able to do everything you could have before."

"No, I mean…I do not know how to cook or hunt or…anything," I admitted shamefully, cheeks reddening.

"I can teach you," she said instantly. I looked up at her, and she was smiling. "I can stay with you here until you can fend for yourself. I must return to my tribe eventually, but I can teach you before I do."

"Will you still come to see me though?" I asked hopefully.

She laughed a little, leaning forward to smooth my hair. "Of course I will," she responded.

"Promise?" I said quietly.

"I promise you," she said firmly.

I smiled, for the first time in what felt like forever, and settled down to eat my meal. Maybe I could learn to survive here, without my family. It would pain me to do so, but I might be able to do it with Drenna's help. Hope swelled in me, and I felt relatively close to happy.

**So? So, so? ;) What do you think?**

**After this we'll start in the time frame where the rest of the story takes place, which is a couple months before the knights' discharge from Roman service.**

**So...one review? I think that's fair, considering there's not really any plot progression. :P**

**Love vibes to you all!**


	3. I'm All Out of Breath

**So here's chapter three. :) I put up the last chapter of my Titanic story today. It was pretty bittersweet. It was the first full length fanfic I've ever finished. :P**

**Thanks to the reviewers, and I forgot to let you guys know in the first chapters that I have a Tumblr for my fics. If you want to know how I pictured all of the characters, go to my profile for the link. :D**

**Sorry Tristan doesn't make an appearance yet. I needed to reintroduce Aderyn, now that she's an adult. :P**

_**IMPORTANT: THE LANGUAGE USED FOR THE "WOAD LANGUAGE" IS ACTUALLY WELSH. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT IT ACTUALLY WAS, AND I'D READ A FEW FICS THAT USED WELSH, SO I DID TOO. IT'S PROBABLY ALL WRONG BECAUSE I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATOR. THE TRANSLATION FOR WHAT IS SAID IS AT THE BOTTOM.**_

**Enjoy. ;)**

_"Do I trust my heart or just my mind? Why is truth so hard to find in this world? Yeah, in this world. 'Cause I am due for a miracle. I'm waiting for a sign. I'll stare straight into the sun, and I won't close my eyes 'til I understand or go blind."-Thrice_

There was a stamping sound, and suddenly a stream of mud flew up and sprayed all over my front, joining the rest of the dirt already caked there. I yelped, leaning back on my knees, and then brandished my small dagger at the culprit.

"If you do that one more time Egryn, I will not hesitate to cut off that pretty white mane of yours!" I said furiously.

The large, black stallion whinnied innocently and nudged my shoulder with his snout. I tried to maintain my glare, but he snorted impatiently. I rolled my eyes with a small smile and brandished the carrot I'd been hiding in the front of my dress.

"Here, you fat beast," I sighed, holding it out. He snapped it up, and trotted away proudly. I huffed, and returned to tending to my herb garden.

Years had passed. With the time that went by, relief from the weight on my heart came. It became easier and easier for me to remember my family fondly instead of painfully. Although the scars from that day remained on my heart, I was able to grow from my pain instead of wallowing in it, because of Drenna. She made me channel my rage and bitterness into the work I had to do around the house and the battlefield training she gave me.

I was not an angry person, like I probably would have been. Drenna would not allow me to recluse myself like a crotchety old soldier who'd spent too many years in battle. She became like a mother to me, and I was given protection from Woad attack because of her. She was held in high esteem by nearly every tribe in Briton, for both her fighting and leading skills and her relation to the "dark magician", Merlin. No one dared to defy her judgment.

I stood, wiping the sweat from my face. As per usual, it was cold, but I'd been outside working all day. I looked to Egryn who, for some strange reason, was prancing around a tree like a show pony instead of the battle horse he was meant to be. I spoiled him too much.

"Egryn!" I snapped, eyes trailing through the forest. He paused, and peered around the tree trunk at me. "Come here, you fool! You are embarrassing me!"

He came over, and snorted in my hair. I made a disgusted noise, and scowled at him. "You know, I should have returned you and asked for a solid mare! No woman could be as vile as you!" He whinnied in reply, and I could have sworn it sounded like laughter. I walked around the side of the cottage with my hand on his neck to lead him. He followed obediently, being forever faithful even though he messed with me like a younger brother.

There was rarely downtime allowed when you had to run a home by yourself. I spent my days hunting, cleaning, cooking, tending to the garden, tending to Egryn, fixing things around the house, in battle training, killing bears or wolves or foxes who got too near, making clothes, and retrieving water or bathing from the small stream that was only a little ways away. Sometimes, I had to do all of those in one single day. There weren't enough hours of daylight for me to get things done, really. I managed well enough for a lone woman who had this life forced on her.

Drenna helped me in the beginning, of course. She taught me nearly everything I know. I would have died within the year of the attack if she had refused to take me under her wing. She'd even gifted me with some unnecessary things, like the ability to speak her language and some tattoos that marked me as untouchable by any tribe that might not know who I am. I owed her so much, but she would not allow any repayment besides the occasional meal or herb from my garden. I wished I could do more.

She also gifted me with Egryn, on the fourth anniversary of my parents' deaths. He was only a pretty little colt then, barely able to walk on his wobbly legs. He'd been born to a mare in her tribe who had died right after birthing him. I raised him own my own, which was why he treated me more like a mother instead of a master. Honestly, he annoyed me to no end, but I loved the moron.

At the back of my house was a single stable that Drenna had helped me build the spring of Egryn's birth. It was sturdy, even though it looked rather haphazard. I hadn't been as good with nail and hammer then as I am now.

I opened the latch, and held the door open as Egryn walked in. I leaned over the side of the structure and checked that he had enough feed and water. I latched the door, and sighed sadly when I noticed that he had promptly lain down and was rolling around like an idiot in the hay.

"At least the hay's clean," I said. "You're getting a bath tomorrow, sir."

I walked back to the front, leaving my mental horse to his own devices. I hummed a lullaby my mother used to sing to my sister as I went, skipping a bit on every third step. I picked up some firewood at the side of the house, and then proceeded to the small spot I always used for fires, tossing it in the middle. My arm locked up, and I grunted slightly from the twinge of pain.

Fourteen years ago, when the leader of the barbarian tribe who killed my family kicked me in the shoulder, he created lasting damage on my arm. He'd kicked it out of place, but in a very odd manner. Drenna had pushed it back, but it had been a long amount of time since it was originally hurt and, unfortunately, it hadn't prevented the damage. The broken wrist had been on the same arm, and had started to repair itself before she could set it. I could still move it, but it looked strangely placed on my arm, like it was still broken. All in all, my left arm was rather gimpy, but I still was able to use it, thank the gods.

I jerked it roughly, and heard a popping sound. I shuddered a little, and then quickly lit the fire. I returned to the sanctity of my house to grab the two rabbits I'd killed earlier. They were strung up near the back of the main room. The only things there anymore were a couple of chairs my father made, a desk, an empty bookshelf, a nest of furs and blankets that served as a bed, and my two dead rabbits. There were three places where doors had been hastily boarded up. I had done it nine years ago, when my grief was so consuming that I could barely function. They used to be the bedrooms, but I couldn't bear to look at them anymore. I stayed in the main room, pretending that the others didn't exist.

I grabbed my rabbits, and brought them back outside where I started to skin them. When Drenna had started to show me how to hunt, I used to cry over every animal I killed and wouldn't skin them. I had to toughen up though, and I knew that I had to eat. I still frowned at the rabbit as I stuck it on a spit and put it over the fire. Although I had changed a lot since the days of my youth, I still could not stomach useless killing. I could fight, yes, but that did not make me a fighter.

The cry of a hawk sounded loudly through the enclosure of my land, and I stood, looking at the sky for a sign of a bird. When I didn't see one, I returned the call hopefully with the hooting of an owl. I heard underbrush cracking under feet, and then I saw a very familiar form walking towards me.

"Drenna!" I exclaimed happily. She smiled wearily as she came forward, grabbing either side of my neck and kissing both of my cheeks.

"Helo, fy annwyl un," she said in her native language.

"Nid fi oedd yn disgwyl i chi heddiw," I admitted, replying in the same tongue while gesturing for her to sit near the fire. She looked tired, and was really showing her age. She wasn't young, as she used to be, but still fought with the strength of five men. Her hair had gradual streaks of gray running through it now, and her forehead and eyes were wrinkled. She still wore the tribal clothes of her people: the brown leather strips that covered the bare minimum of skin. I noticed she had her bow with her, which never meant anything good.

She poked the rabbit to see if it was done, and then dropped it with annoyance when she realized it had just started cooking. "There was an attack yesterday," she finally, admitted, reverting to my first language.

I tensed. "What happened?"

"I was with a small scouting group," she explained, leaning back heavily against a small section of fallen tree trunk that I'd cut up to use as benches around the fire. "We were near the hollow." I swallowed at the mention of that specific tree. There was only one place we spoke of when we mentioned "the hollow". It was my family's graveyard, where the bodies of my parents and siblings rested. I hadn't been there since we'd buried them.

"Why were you over there?" I asked.

"Fresh wolf tracks," she explained. "We were going to cut them off before they could get to our camp or you. We heard horses, and one of my men thought it was you." She snorted derisively. "Foolish boy. It was obviously more than one, but he seemed to think you'd managed to get Egryn to grow extra legs." She sniffed with aggravation, and started to turn the rabbit.

"It was Roman soldiers," she finally said.

She looked up at my sharp intake of breath. "What are Romans doing here?" I asked angrily. The Romans were not welcome, and took every piece of land they could steal from British hands. The sight of any Roman drove me into incandescent rage, and, fortunately, they rarely came near this stretch of forest.

"I did not stop to ask," she said amusedly. "We took them all out except for one. He was young, and we do not kill youth." I nodded approvingly. "He was injured pretty badly though."

I shook my head. "Well, he deserves the injuries," I decided. "Romans need to learn to keep their damned noses where they belong. They are like petulant children, getting into everything that is not their business." I spit on the ground, and converted to Woad without even realizing it. "Ni yw'r unig bobl gyda hawliad wir hyd y tir hwn! Dylent gael y uffern allan. Bastards."

"Gwyliwch eich ceg, Aderyn," Drenna said, continuing to turn the rabbit on the spit. It was her usual reaction when I cursed. She really had become the mother I'd lost over the years.

I stabbed the ground with my knife, upturning it in my annoyance. If I was able to spill blood without a second thought, I would kill Romans. They come here with their almighty god and think they can take the land and convert the people. Well, I'd be damned if I converted to any god who deemed what happened to my family as an acceptable fight. To me, there was no god, and if there was, I turned my back on him long ago.

A plate was thrust under my nose, and I took it. Drenna was already devouring her rabbit using only her hands and teeth. I wrinkled my nose, and she laughed at my expression.

"One thing I will never allow myself to inherit from you is your table manners," I said decidedly, wiping off the dagger I'd stabbed the ground with and using it to cut the rabbit into smaller pieces.

"Oh, Aderyn, you are too squeamish," she said teasingly.

"There is a difference between squeamish and civilized," I responded. She laughed again, but did not reply.

After we finished our meal, we sat in comfortable silence as darkness surrounded our small fire. I would have to go to sleep soon so I could wake up early the next day and bathe before I started my daily routine.

"My niece will be leaving tomorrow at dawn," Drenna finally sighed, looking up at the myriad of stars above us.

"Her name is Guinevere, right?" I asked, only just remembering Drenna mentioning her coming to visit three weeks ago.

She nodded with a fond smile on her lips. "My brother's daughter. She's a good girl." I felt a pang of jealousy at the proud look on Drenna's face. I knew that I was very close with the woman. She had raised me for the better half of my life, and taught me things I would never have learned if things had been different. She'd taught me what womanhood meant, and told me that I should never allow myself to be stuck under a man's thumb. But I couldn't deny that I resented Guinevere, a woman I'd never met, just because she had an actual blood relation to my mentor.

"Of course, I could never be as close with her as I am with you," Drenna said smoothly. I flushed, and covered it by pretending to stoke the fire. "She has her own mother to be close to." I wondered if she'd detected my train of thought, and was only saying it because of that.

A hand painted blue encased mine, and my eyes met hers. She was smiling softly. "Ti yw'r unig un yr wyf yn edrych fel merch, Aderyn. Ni all unrhyw un gymryd lle i chi."

I returned her smile. "Diolch i chi, Drenna."

She let go of my hand, and stood. "Unfortunately, I must go. I have to discuss what the Roman attack may mean with my men," she said. I stood, and she kissed both of my cheeks again. "Ffarwel, fy mhlentyn."

"Cysgu yn dda," I replied. She vanished into the darkness like a ghost, and I put out the fire, taking one flaming branch with me for light.

When I entered the cottage, I bolted the four locks behind me, and tested them to make sure they were secure. Drenna had them all put on so that I couldn't be surprised by an attack. I knew she would be furious if she knew that I used to leave them unlocked when I was younger. I welcomed an attack in those days, hoping that someone might just end my life while I slept. But when I started to realize that my life was worth more than that, I always made sure to lock them.

I used the fire from the torch to light an oil lamp I'd taken from an encampment of soldiers when I was nineteen. After that, I tossed the torch into a barrel of water near the door that was only used for that purpose. I took off the sword and sheath buckled at my hip, and dropped them next to my bed on the floor. I unlaced my breeches and slipped my tunic off, tossing them into a haphazard pile of clothes that needed washing. I pulled on the thin white dress that I used as a nightgown, and slipped under the soft furs, blowing out the flame in the lamp once I was comfortable.

It was the worst part of my day: sleep. Through a cloud of tired haze, I tried to think of the meditation techniques Drenna had taught me to ward off the nightmares, but I was suddenly too exhausted to think straight…

Suddenly I was running through a dark forest, following my brother as he raced ahead of me. I kept screaming his name, but he ignored me or couldn't hear me. I could feel tears on my cheeks, and they angered me for some reason. Someone pushed me, and I fell. They grabbed me by my collar to lift me high in the air so that I was eye to eye with them, and I looked at the giant man who looked like a lion with his head shaved.

"You can never escape me," he whispered in my ear as I just gawked at him in horror. "I will always be in your heart, your soul, ripping you to shreds…"

I screamed and screamed, but no one was able to hear me. Then four figures approached, and I thought I was saved. They were walking too slow though, and I suddenly felt dread. I struggled in the man's grip, wanting to just run away from them all. The moonlight lit their faces, and I screamed. My family was all there, their eyes staring at me unseeingly. My father had an arrow protruding from his chest, and Melita had one sticking out of her throat. My mother had a slash wound across her throat that blood was cascading from in waves down her front. My brother held his severed head under his arm, and I screamed even louder, crying uncontrollably.

The man holding me dangled me above them tauntingly, and Ursus jammed his head onto the bloody stump of his neck as they all started to reach for me. I held my feet up, swaying precariously as I tried to keep away from their grabbing hands.

"Join us, Aderyn," they drawled.

"No!" I wailed.

The big man dropped me, and I waited to feel their freezing hands on my skin. Instead I landed on something soft. A weight dropped on top of me, heaving all the breath out of my lungs. It was a faceless man with long, tangled brown hair. He ripped the black dress I was wearing to ribbons. I tried to push him away, but he laughed and it echoed in my head.

"Stop struggling, my pretty, and you might like it," he purred evilly. I screeched like a banshee, but he smothered it with his mouth, forcing mine open with his own. I scratched at his face, but my nails could find no purchase in his skin. He opened my legs with his knee, and I screamed, anticipating what was next…

I sat up in my little mound of blankets, panting, with sweat pouring down my back, face, and neck. My eyes took in every inch of the room rapidly, expecting to see a man there, ready to violate me further. When I was positive there was no one, I slumped back onto my bed, and stared at the ceiling.

I fought it, as I usually did, but there was no defeating what came next. I bit into one of the blankets as I started to cry uncontrollably into my pillow.

**Helo, fy annwyl un****: Hello, my dear one**

**Nid fi oedd yn disgwyl i chi heddiw:**** I did not expect you today**

**Ni yw'r unig bobl gyda wir i hawlio'r tir hwn! Dylent gael y uffern allan:**** We are the only people with true to claim this land! They should get the hell out .**

**Gwyliwch eich ceg, Aderyn:**** Watch your mouth, Aderyn**

**Ti yw'r unig un yr wyf yn edrych fel merch. Ni all unrhyw un gymryd lle i chi:**** You are the only one I see as a daughter, Aderyn. No one can replace you.**

**Diolch i chi, Drenna:**** Thank you, Drenna.**

**Ffarwel, fy mhlentyn:**** Farewell, my child.**

**Cysgu yn dda:**** Sleep well**

**Two reviews? Does that sound fair? I think it does. Please and thank you.**

**Hope you all had a good weekend, and have a good week! :D**


	4. My Walls Are Closing In

**WOO, chapter four! :D**

**So thanks everyone for the reviews. :) I just want to clear something up: when I say I want reviews, I don't mean I just want positive. If you love it, thank you, but if you hate it, that's okay too. If you would like to critique, that's great! I'm always open to suggestions. (:**

**So the *+*Insert Name Here*+* signifies point of view change. This should only switch between three people: Aderyn, Tristan, and Arthur. There is another one, but it's in third person and it will only show up twice throughout the whole story. :P The /\/\/\/\/\ means time gap.**

**Enjoy (I hope) ;D!**

_"The morning will come soon. I'll tell you stories of a better time, in a place that we once knew. Before we packed our bags and left all this behind us in the dust, we had a place that we could call home, and a life no one could touch. Don't hold me up now. I can stand my own ground."-Rise Against_

*+*Tristan*+*

As usual I was the first one awake. It didn't bother me. I preferred the solitude of the early morning. Everyone was either just waking up or sleeping, and it meant that no one was on the streets. I used that time to saddle up my horse, Isolde, and take her out to the lone apple tree that was in the woods outside the wall.

The guards on post opened the gate when they saw me coming, and Isolde cantered through them, already knowing where we were going. I kept alert while we rode, but there really was no need. There were no Woads this close to Hadrian's Wall, and there had been no reports of any other sort of invasions recently.

I listened for wolves or bears mostly, although I knew Isolde would sense them before I came upon them and would warn me. She was intelligent and had great instincts. It was safe to say that the mare was the only female creature I really liked to be within ten feet of me for a long period of time. Vanora was tolerable, but once she was near Bors she became less bearable. Those two fought like wild animals.

Women in general rather irritated me. The barmaids at Vanora's tavern were all short in brains, and they thought low-cut dresses and a lack of morals would make up for that. It didn't. I was a man, so I did end up in the occasional tavern wench's bed, but I left once I was satisfied and barely glanced at her again unless she was filling my cup. The women back home in Sarmatia were much less idiotic, and I'd felt more at ease around them then. But that was a long time ago; I could barely remember home. My memory of them might not even be as accurate as I thought, or was possibly clouded by childlike judgment.

We'd left over fourteen years ago now. Our fifteen were almost up, and I felt freedom within my grasp. It wasn't as sweet as I thought it would be though.

What would I do once I had those discharge papers? Go back to Sarmatia? It would be next to impossible to find my people, as they were nomadic. And if I did, I doubted there would be much there to interest me. My parents were most likely dead and buried by now, and I didn't remember being very close to them in the first place. I had no siblings, and no friends I was close enough to search the lands for. Sarmatia didn't interest me much, in all honesty.

Rome was a definite no, and that meant every single corner of the bloody country. I would not set even a toe across a Roman border once I was free. The whole place could go up in flames, Arthur's opinion be damned. The place was a breeding ground for rulers who thought themselves entitled to things that they had no right to and a religion that I was extremely cautious of. No, Rome was even worse than Sarmatia.

I'd never really hated Briton as much as the others though. As Gawain always said: "If it's not raining, it's snowing. If it's not snowing, it's foggy." He had a point, but I wasn't nearly as bothered by the weather as he was. I'd rather it rain than be burned up by the sun. There was also the fact that I knew what land to be wary of here, and where I could go without getting killed. I could leave Hadrian's Wall, and head south. That didn't seem like too bad of an idea.

It would be strange, living without the men I'd come to think of as brothers. I had no one else anymore, and I admit that it would be awfully silent without one of them cracking a rude joke or getting so drunk that they were belligerent. I enjoyed their company, as much as I despised the fact that I'd let myself become attached to anyone.

Arthur would go to Rome, so there would be no visiting him, obviously. I knew he would eventually come back though, but the chance we would meet again was slim. Bors would end up here at the Wall, I knew it for certain. He said he didn't care about Vanora or his ten children (with another on the way), but it was obvious that he did. Vanora wore the pants in their relationship, and I knew she would refuse to leave.

Gawain, Galahad, Lancelot, and Dagonet would probably go back to Sarmatia, to the lands they called home. Galahad was the type of man to lose his head over a woman, so he would most likely end up married with about a hundred children, just like Bors. Lancelot would try and work his way through every woman in Sarmatia, and would probably succeed. He was a bigger whore than any woman at the brothel. I could see Dag getting married too, and eventually having children. Gawain said he would wed a beautiful Sarmatian woman, and he would want to stay near Galahad. They were inseparable.

All of the knights would end up married eventually, for they were all the type (except maybe Lancelot, who would have a couple of regular women instead of one wife). I knew I wouldn't though. I'd rather be on my own and travel. I had no interest in being shackled to any woman, and children irked me. I was certainly the black sheep amongst the men, but it had always been so.

Isolde stopped, and I realized we'd reached the apple tree while I'd been absorbed in my ponderings. So much for being alert. I slid out of the saddle, and patted the mare's neck as I walked over to the tree. I pulled my sword from the sheath on my back, and slashed it at a low-hanging branch. A couple of apples fell, and I retrieved them. I held one out to Isolde, who instantly devoured the whole thing.

I put two others into my saddlebag, and kept one out to eat on the ride back. I heard the familiar shriek of a hawk, and looked to the sky. She was circling over a place about twenty feet of me, flapping her wings more than was necessary like she wanted to get my attention.

I mounted Isolde, slipping the apple I'd been about to eat back into my saddle bag, and unsheathed my sword in exchange. I didn't know what the hawk wanted me to see, but I didn't want to be unprepared. I rode as silently as possible through the trees, keeping much more alert than I had on the ride on here.

Finally I was directly under the bird, who dove and landed on my shoulder. Her talons sank through my tunic, but I was used to the slight prick of them when she landed.

"What is it?" I asked, almost inaudibly. As if in answer I heard the sound of horse hooves stamping on the ground nearby.

A horse appeared, the usual Roman saddle and armor adorning it. The rider was slumped unconscious on its back, and the horse seemed terrified. I approached slowly, keeping my sword ready. I patted the horse's neck, murmuring to it soothingly so it would calm down. The rider was a Roman soldier, or was disguised as one. When we were right alongside each other, I nudged the unconscious soldier's head with one hand.

The man's arm lashed out, and grabbed my wrist in a death grip. I nearly cut his arm off, except that he started to sob as he lifted himself up into a slumped sitting position. He was young, much too young to fight, just as I had been when I'd been brought to Briton. There was blood caking the front of his armor, and his eyes were glazed over with pain.

"Who are you?" I asked, keeping my sword trained on him with the arm he wasn't squeezing the circulation out of.

He looked at me, and it was like he wasn't really seeing me. "All of them," he whispered brokenly. "They killed every single one of them."

/\/\/\/\/\

I tied his horse to mine, and towed him back to the fort. He went to the healers, and I alerted Arthur who had the rest of the knights go to the room with the round table.

I remembered the first time Arthur explained the significance of the shape of the table: our first night here. He said we were men, and we were equal no matter our age, race, religion, or background. To truly be equal, we would erase the things that demonstrated our rank. He always said pretty-spun things like that, but he _was_ our commander and Lancelot was his second-in-command. They both rarely used that against us, doing the best they could to keep to Arthur's first promise to us as his knights.

The men pressed me for information while Arthur interrogated the soldier in the infirmary. I told them what I knew: he was alone in the forest, knocked out on his horse, and apparently he'd seen some people die. I didn't know who killed who, and I didn't know how grievous his injuries were. Lancelot paced impatiently, Bors kept drumming his fingers on the tabletop, and Galahad had taken to carving things on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. Gawain had propped his legs up on the table, and fallen asleep in his chair. The only ones who showed practically indifference to the situation were Dagonet and I. Dag was calmly sitting with his hands clasped on the tabletop, lost in thought. I was using the time to eat the apple I'd been deprived of earlier.

The door opened with a creek, and Lancelot stopped pacing. We all looked expectantly at Arthur as he took his usual seat near the door. When Jols shut the door behind him, Gawain awoke with a loud snort.

"I say we follow Arthur," he said stupidly, and Bors laughed loudly. Even Dagonet cracked a smile.

Arthur looked solemn, despite the amusement of his other knights. I watched his reactions carefully, and I knew we were not about to like what he had to say.

"Men," he said gravely, "yesterday night a cavalry of soldiers fell to a tribe of Woads not far from the Wall."

"Not far from the Wall?" asked Lancelot confusedly.

"The Woads control the North," Galahad pointed out. "The _far_ North."

Arthur sighed stressfully. "We knew of a lone tribe closer to here who was mostly peaceful. They rarely attack soldiers, but it seems to have changed yesterday. They took them down as they were riding back through the woods from a scouting mission assigned to them by Bishop Germanus."

Bors shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "S'not our problem," he decided. "Tristan said the soldier was only a boy. They were probably dumb enough to ride about two feet from the camp without realizing it, and got what was coming to them." Gawain nodded in silent agreement.

"Among them was a man named Arminius Julius. He is the son of a wealthy Roman senator," he informed us. I already sensed the direction this was going in. "Word was sent to his parents, but they do not believe that their son is dead."

Gawain snorted again, this time in amusement. "Yes, because if he's rich and powerful, there is _no possible way_ that he's a mediocre fighter," he said sarcastically. Galahad chuckled.

Arthur remained stoic, trying to invoke seriousness into his knights. "We've been commissioned," he finally admitted. "We are to travel to where they were attacked, and find their son."

"WHAT?" Bors roared, jumping from his chair. "They want us to go charging into a Woad encampment, and demand they give us a _dead body_? They're mad!"

Arthur sighed. "It's our orders, Bors," he said calmly. Bors threw himself back into his chair, muttering darkly.

"You are to be ready by dawn tomorrow," Arthur finished. He waved his arm, and we all rose, going to prepare. There was an identical glare on nearly all of the knights' faces, and I felt the same irritation. We were being sent into useless danger because of the pride of one family.

"One more thing," Arthur said, and we all paused. "There is talk among many people of a 'ghost' that resides around those parts." Lancelot's eyebrows shot up. "The men that go near there say they hear singing sometimes, and possessions go missing from troops that go through there. Some have even said they've seen a girl walking around there with a horse following her. It's most likely just a creative thief trying to invoke fear in their victims. We've got to stay aware, and we should come out fine."

Great. A creative thief, a useless mission, and Woads. Strange how a day that started so well could end so terribly.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I was just finishing bathing Egryn, and was using a blanket to wipe the excess moisture from him. He shook his head, and his mane sprayed water all over me. I blocked my face, and laughed at him.

"You're in a good mood today," I noted. "And I didn't even have to give you a snack!"

After crying earlier that morning, I gradually calmed down. I was used to it. I would wake up panicked and depressed, and be perfectly back to normal by breakfast.

There was a thin layer of snow on the ground this morning, which was normal for this time of year, even though it was spring. Briton was a strange place. One second it would be raining, the next snowing, and then the sun would shine only an hour later. I liked the variety.

"There," I said finally, dropping the soaked blanket on the ground next to the buckets I'd used to bathe him. "Now go play while I finish up."

He walked away to a particularly green patch of grass, and proceeded to tear it to shreds.

I picked up a pile of laundry and my bucket, and kneeled next to the water to fill the bucket. I pushed a tunic into it, and started to wash it quickly with the soap that Drenna would give me once a month. She said she would teach me to make it soon so that I wouldn't have to wait for her to give it to me. I was rather looking forward to it.

I leaned over to rinse the article of clothing in the river, but I froze. My reflection stared back at me, and I just looked at myself. I didn't often look at my reflection, fearing I would see the same disgusting creature I used to see.

I had long dark brown hair that looked black if the sun wasn't shining directly on it. It was the same shade my mother's was, and all of her children had inherited it. I was pale for someone who spent most of their time outside, and had a splash of freckles across my nose and cheekbones. My lips were full and pale pink, just as my mother's had been. I had the same nose as my father, and had his shockingly light blue eyes as well. Melita had them too, but Ursus's had been brown, like mother's.

Though I didn't feel loathing of myself like I used to, I didn't like myself either. I felt…indifference. I doubted any man could ever find me pretty. Then again I knew no men. I lived alone in the middle of the woods. Even if one did find me _and _happen to think I wasn't hideous, I would be cast to the side like stale drink. I was tainted by another man…many other men.

I shoved the thought from my head, and plunged the tunic into the water where my face had been staring back at me accusingly.

/\/\/\/\/\

I finished the laundry, and threw the wet clothes into the sack I'd brought them in. I checked the area, raking my eyes over my surroundings many times over before I started to unclothe.

"If you hear anyone, chase them away," I told Egryn. He just snorted, like he thought the idea of him helping me out was amusing. In truth, it was.

I slipped into the freezing cold water, hissing at the way my shoulder locked up instantly. I popped it again, and quickly dipped my head back to wet my hair. I washed quickly, scrubbing the dirt and sweat from my skin until I looked normal again. I dunked my whole head under the water for a moment to rinse off the soap, and then climbed out and dried myself off with a separate blanket. I pulled on a clean, dry set of breeches and a tunic, and plaited my hair so it wouldn't get in my way.

I saddled Egryn again, and attached the bucket, soiled blankets, and bag of wet laundry to it before mounting.

"Come on, we've got a lot to do," I told him, nudging him into a trot.

I listened to the forest around me as I rode, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing though, completely silent…

Since when was this place so quiet? It was eerie, and I realized I didn't trust it. My sword was sheathed to the saddle, and I pulled it out slowly to muffle the sound of the metal scraping against the scabbard. I held it down at my side, hoping to make it look like I was vulnerable so I could take any possible attackers off guard.

No one attacked me though, and I made it back to the cottage without any confrontation. It still wasn't right though, that I hadn't seen anything at all.

I left Egryn saddled at the front door, and dropped off the laundry, bucket, and blankets. I walked back out, and got back into the saddle. I kept my sword out and down, as I nudged Egryn back into a slow walk. I needed to get some eucalyptus so I could replant them in my garden. It helped with sore throats.

I was well away from the cottage ten minutes later, and I still didn't hear any normal sounds. Egryn didn't seem bothered, which was the only thing that kept me from turning back. My eyes scanned the ground for any sign of the plant while occasionally darting around for any threats. I wished Drenna was here. She could sense disturbances from miles away.

I clucked my tongue, and Egryn sped up a little. There was a circle of trees ahead where I'd found it before, and it looked promising. I stilled the horse with a pull on his reins, but I froze before I could slide from the saddle to inspect the ground.

The sound was familiar, and it made my hackles rise instantly. The yells of many people, and the clash of metal against metal, one sword hitting another.

Another attack.

I dug my heel into Egryn's side, hard, and he shot off through the trees. I listened hard, making sure the sounds got louder instead of quieter. That was why the forest was quiet. The animals had fled from the fighting.

When the sound was nearly deafening, I dismounted Egryn. Normally I didn't tether him. He knew when to stay and when he was allowed to go, but this was urgent. I needed to know for sure where he was.

"Stay here," I told him as I finished the knot. He whinnied, and I slunk through the trees with my sword.

I saw a dead Woad, and my heart lurched. He had an arrow sticking out of his right eye. I stepped past him, and saw the battle.

It surprised me immensely. There were dozens of Woads, but only about eight or nine soldiers fighting them and they were holding their own. Only one of the men wore Roman garb, the others wore armor that was foreign to my eyes. They fought like gods of war, cutting down seemingly endless amounts of opponents with single swipes of their swords. It was strangely poetic.

My eyes searched for one person, and I found her. Drenna was charging through the crowd, dodging anyone who tried to get at her. She launched herself into the air, tackling a man with dark curls from his saddle and punching him once he was on the ground. I knew she could fend for herself.

I cursed myself when I realized my bow was back at home. _Why _would I leave home without it? Drenna would have smacked me. She was too busy now to even realize I was there, which I was grateful for.

I thought about charging into the fighting, but decided against it. I was adequate, but there were only a few of these men. Eventually they would fall to the hands of the Woads.

Something thin and cold was suddenly against my neck, and I knew instantly what it was. Before the person could slit my throat, I'd rammed the hilt of my short sword into their ribs, and kicked backwards at their knees. They grunted, and I ducked and rolled away.

I faced the man who'd tried to kill me with my teeth bared. His eyes bore into mine, and he raised his sword, prepared for a fight. He had longer, shaggy black hair that hung slightly wavy in his face, and he had a scraggly beard that concealed the parts of his face that his hair didn't. He had tattoos on both of his cheekbones, and his eyes were dark beneath his hair. He dropped his chin slightly, and they vanished behind the curtain of his hair.

He lunged without warning, and I did a deep backbend that I would have thought was impossible in order to dodge his sword. I was back up straight within a second, just in time to block his next attack, aimed for my legs. He swung in an arch, and I parried again. He backed up, and started to circle me. I could tell he was looking for an opening, but I would not give it to him. I realized with a thrill that this was the first time I felt truly challenged by someone who wasn't a Woad. The Romans had equipped their military with size rather than skill, and the barbaric tribes who came through here relied more on brute force instead of cunning. They'd fallen easily.

This man was smart though, clearly, and he wasn't intending on using his masculinity to scare me, like so many others had. He'd sensed that I wouldn't be intimidated, and he was going to search for another weakness.

This time I lunged, and he took a step back. We did that little dance four more times until he finally parried my fifth attack, pushing me backwards slightly. He was much stronger than me, but I was more agile because of my smaller size. This was going to be a very interesting fight.

We started to circle again, and I realized that we'd strayed from the rest of the fighting. I could still see them, but no one was paying attention to us.

He lunged when my eyes had darted to the other clearing, and I just managed to block the blow. I made to kick him in the stomach, but he grabbed my ankle just before I could backtrack, shoving me backwards. I landed on my back, all of the air rushing from my lungs.

He struck down, but I raised my blade just in time. I did a backwards somersault to return to my feet, but regretted it instantaneously when I noticed the tree behind me. My back hit solid wood, and he struck forward. I blocked, and we just stood there with our blades clashed together. He pushed forward, and my shoulder locked up. I knew my eyes betrayed the shock of fear I experienced, but he didn't move. He stared at me over our crossed blades, his face only about a foot away. His eyes didn't look dark at all from this distance. They were almost gold…

There was a frenzied yell, and suddenly a Woad man attacked him from behind. The dark soldier didn't even make a sound when the Woad kicked him in the back of his knees, sending him to the ground. I gasped, but he rolled away, ready for the fight.

Their battle was much fiercer than ours: a constant clash of metal on metal, and limbs constantly flying to attack. They danced around each other, the Woad like he was standing on hot coals, and the strange soldier with an undeniable grace that did not match his out appearance.

The Woad raised his sword like he would swing down onto the man's head, and he made to block it. Before the swords even touched, the Woad changed direction, slashing him efficiently from his left shoulder all the way to his right hip.

The formerly silent soldier gasped this time, sounding mostly surprised that someone had struck him. He fell on his knees, and dropped his sword. My head could barely contain my bulging eyes. I couldn't watch, but I couldn't look away. The Woad slowly kicked the other man's strange sword out of reach, and put his blade under his throat so that his golden eyes were forced to look up.

"Fi angen i weld y bywyd adael eich corff," the Woad said evilly.

I wouldn't let this happen. I spotted a wooden club only feet away, roughly hewn from a flimsy wood. No wonder its owner had abandoned it. He was probably dead. I lunged for it, unbeknownst to the Woad or the foreign soldier.

The Woad pressed his sword to the side of the man's neck, aiming, and then drew it back, intending to decapitate him. I stepped up quietly behind him just before he started to swing, and clunked him, hard, in the back of the head with the club. It exploded into hundreds of tiny splinters, and the Woad immediately fell to the ground, unconscious with a nasty bleeding head wound.

The other man eyed me suspiciously, but not for long. His eyelids drooped, and then he fell sideways. I dropped next to him, inspecting the wound. It was bleeding too much too fast. He needed it cleaned and stitched.

Years later, I would wonder why there was no other solution in my mind. I could have left him there to die. He'd killed many of the people I thought of as my own, and he almost killed me. But when I looked at his closed eyes, I just wanted them to open.

I picked up his sword, and shoved it into the sheath on his back. Without hesitating, I put one of his arms across my shoulders, and pulled him to his feet laboriously; bringing him back to Egryn so I could save his life, for whatever strange reason.

*+*Arthur*+*

I cut down every Woad that crossed my path. I hadn't expected them to answer calmly to the presence of Roman soldiers, but I had not expected so many. I already knew that the senator's son was dead. The knights and I happened upon a group of Woads burying the bodies of the Romans, and when they noticed us, they attacked immediately. The sound of the fighting alerted more, and we ended up outnumbered three to one. The Woads were not merciful when it came to intruders, especially Romans. Not that I blamed them. I considered myself a Roman, but I still saw the brutality of taking another man's country from him.

I looked around for the rest of the knights. My eyes only laid on Dagonet for about a second before a woman charged me, slicing at the air around me with duel daggers. I stabbed her, and kicked her body off my sword, turning to cut the head off of another who'd been trying to sneak up on me.

There was someone yelling in the Woad language, and I spotted a woman, standing in a tree. She was pointing to the forest, looking almost relieved and a little more than smug. She had graying black hair, and dark eyes. I knew who she was even before I spied the tattoo of a feather on her hipbone. She was Drenna, the leader of this sector of Woads. She was well-respected as a great fighter, even by the Romans.

When I realized why she was so smug, my heart dropped. Charging across the clearing were hundreds more Woads, all battle-ready. My knights were much too tired by now to be able to fight that many fully-energized men.

"RETREAT!" I roared, pulling myself back up into the saddle.

"RETREAT! RETREAT!" I heard the call repeated through the men, and I led the men in galloping away from the camp.

We rode for miles with the Woads on our tails, chasing us as far away as they dared. I rode still further into the trees, not allowing any room for a surprise attack.

I finally stopped, and got off my horse. The other men stilled too, climbing down. Dagonet was clutching a few broken fingers, looking at them critically. The rest had the usual cuts and bruises as far as I could see.

"Is anyone mortally injured?" I asked firmly, hiding the weariness I felt at having to ask that yet again.

No one said yes, so I calmed a little. I looked around at them, assessing their injuries. They should all be able to ride, with the possible exception of Dagonet.

"Dag, can you ride with that hand?" I asked.

He nodded, holding up his uninjured hand. "I still have this one," he said.

I nodded approvingly. "We know for certain now that the senator's son is dead," I pointed out calmly.

"Were you expecting a different outcome?" Galahad asked bitterly, wrapping a cloth around a large gash on his thigh that was bleeding freely onto the dead grass below him.

I didn't respond, and pulled myself back into the saddle. "The ride is not far," I reminded them. "We should be able to get back before nightfall without camping."

Lancelot nodded in agreement, and I turned, preparing to spur my horse on.

"Stop!" Dagonet said suddenly. I froze, hoping he hadn't noticed suddenly that he'd been shot or anything along those lines. I turned my head, and he was scanning over us all confusedly.

"Where is Tristan?" he asked.

All heads started to turn this way and that, looking around for the scout. It was quite obvious that he wasn't among us now that it had been brought to my attention. His silence was common, so it was actually a normal thing for him to go unnoticed.

"Who saw him last?" I asked fiercely.

"I saw him walking into some trees, away from the battle," Gawain said immediately.

"He was fighting someone away from the clearing," Lancelot suddenly recalled. "He was circling them the last I saw."

I swallowed nervously, imagining the body of the faithful scout lingering somewhere near the clearing we just left. Bors used a colorful curse word, and I looked back the way we came.

This could not be good.

**Fi angen i weld y bywyd adael eich corff:**** I want to see the life leave your body**

**Wooo, Tristan appears! :D But then he gets hurt. :( Wah.**

**So once again, the translations are done with Google translator. I don't speak Welsh, so don't blame me for bad translations Blame technology.**

**Three reviews? Is that alright with everyone? If you think I'm being unfair, let me know and I'll cut it down as I see fit. (: Please and thank ya.**

**Hope you all have good weeks!**


	5. Days Go By

**Yayyy, chapter five! :D**

**So I only have eleven chapters written. I've had literally ZERO time to write recently. :( Homework is killing me, and I like to try to have a social life as well. So I've been out late every night with friends, and then been up until like two doing homework. Today though, the guy with the car had baseball practice, so I got a much-needed nap AND writing time! :D YAY FOR BASEBALL!**

**But yeah, you don't care about my personal problems. I'll shut up now.**

_"This is who I get when, when I don't know myself anymore, and this is what I choose when it's all left up to me. Breathe your life into me. I can feel you. I'm falling, falling faster. Breathe your life into me. I still need you. I'm falling, falling. Breathe into me, breathe into me. This is how it looks when I am standing on the edge, and this is how I break apart. And I finally hit the ground. This is how it hurts when I pretend I don't feel any pain."-Red_

*+*Arthur*+*

I was not, nor had I ever been, an overly proud man. But everyone had their limit, the line they wouldn't cross, and I'd just jumped over mine with a flying leap. A deep frown creased my face as I walked slowly back into the Woad territory I'd just fled. This was efficiently embarrassing.

I waved a white flag in the air, made from a stick I'd found on the ground and a square of cloth that Dagonet would have used for bandages. I'd stripped myself of all my armor, leaving only my black tunic and pants, and left all of my weapons behind. The back of my neck was prickling uncomfortably from the feeling of being completely defenseless in a place where there were hundreds of people that would delight in burning me alive.

I kept walking slowly, waving my newly made surrender flag, and waiting to hear the twang of an arrow being released. It was my idea, but I still didn't have much faith in it. This was Tristan though; my forever dutiful scout who'd never failed me. I wasn't going to fail him, even in his death.

And we knew he had to be dead. Tristan would never have just lain on the ground injured during a retreat. Even if he'd lost a leg he would have found a way to get back on the saddle. That was his way. The men were already subdued and quietly furious at the loss of another man. I knew it would sink in more when they actually saw the body, and they would do their usual. Bors would get angry and scream and then drink, Dagonet would vanish into his room most of the time, Gawain would go quiet for days and threaten most people that walked in his path, Galahad would get broody and spend hours upon hours practicing archery in the training grounds, Lancelot would be serious and abandon his tavern wenches for a time, and I would be my normal self, burying the loss deep inside of me to be dealt with later. I needed to lead, and that lent no time for mourning.

"Do not move!"

I froze, keeping the flag in the air. "I come peacefully," I said, trying to keep my voice even. I heard the sound of a bow being pulled taut, and resisted the urge to curse. "I wish to speak with your leader."

"She is a bit busy," the voice continued, clearly male. "She's got a slight problem with a field full of dead bodies because of you and your men."

Whoever this man was, he was very clearly itching to shoot me. I looked around, even in the trees, but I didn't see him. "I am here to speak only to Drenna."

There was silence for awhile, and I could almost feel death creeping up my back. My instincts were screaming for flight, but I stayed stock still.

Suddenly a twig snapped behind me just as something pointy stuck into the back of my neck. I dropped the makeshift flag, and held up both of my arms.

"I will take you to Drenna," said the same voice from right behind me. He laughed cruelly. "The gods know it would give me a good laugh to see her deal with you. She is not a merciful woman. Go."

He prodded me sharply to the back of the neck, and I felt the arrowhead break my skin. I began to walk, keeping my eyes on my surroundings. The hostility was rolling off of this man in giant waves, and I was completely tense because of it. I would fight if I had to. I would lose, considering I had no weapons, but I would not go down without trying to defend my life. The knights knew that if I didn't come back in an hour, they were to leave without me. I hoped they actually heeded that order.

"Stop," the man commanded. I did so.

A strange whistle suddenly echoed around the forest, and I waited for whatever strange creature it came from to appear. When nothing came, I realized it came from the man behind me. Odd.

A woman appeared in front of me, through the trees. She was bloodstained, and carrying a long, thin sword in her left hand. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her skin was painted blue. An air of regality came from her, and I could tell by the curl of her lip that she would have no qualms killing me where I stood.

She said something in her native language, and the man behind me replied. Her eyes darted back to me, and scanned from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

"Arturias Castus," she said suddenly. "I have heard many stories of you. Half-Roman, half-Briton, yet you are faithful to the men who take what has never been theirs, the very murderers of your mother's people. Why is this, Arturias?" Her accent was elegant, and the words rolled off her tongue with a strange lilt. She seemed generally curious and yet still slightly mocking.

I kept my face straight and emotionless. "I am not here to discuss my allegiances," I told her. My arms were still in the air, and were aching slightly at this point. "I have come to appeal to your conscience."

She cackled, looking more insane than I'd seen of her so far. "I do not have one, Roman," she sneered finally.

"You do," I replied calmly. One of her eyebrows arched. "You would have killed me on the spot if you did not. Conscienceless people would have no problem killing an unarmed man who came for a peaceful talk."

She eyed me curiously, like she was trying to figure me out. I was a bit taken aback when she smiled genuinely, like I amused her.

"You really are the man of legend, Arthur," she said, chuckling. "Now, what is your business with this conscience of mine that you seem to know so much about?"

"You took down one of my men," I informed her. Her eyebrows shot up, and her mouth opened slightly in surprise. "I am here for his body."

She glanced at the man behind me, and then back at me. "I have just finished overseeing the collecting of the bodies, and there was no Sarmatian among them," she said curiously.

My forehead wrinkled in confusion. "That is impossible."

"I assure you, it is not," she responded, dropping her arm and pointing her sword to the ground for the first time. "Unless one of your men delights in disguising himself as a Woad. All of the men I have prepared for burial wear the sacred paint."

"Was there a white horse you didn't recognize?" I asked. She shook her head.

This was even more baffling than thinking it was possible that Tristan had fallen in battle. How could a body and a horse just vanish? It was true that Isolde may have been spooked when he dismounted and took off, but that didn't explain the lack of the body. Had someone taken him? What would they need with a body?

Somehow, I knew the answer before I even came in here: Tristan was not dead. He was in these woods somewhere, possibly injured and confused. I had little time, and I needed to find him.

"Lady," I said pleadingly, surprising her with my tone and formal address. "I have been fighting with him for nearly fifteen years. He is a good friend. I ask your permission for a month to search the surrounding forest for his body." I didn't think it would bode well to tell her he may be alive. "I will leave with or without him when the month is over, but I beg this of you. I ask for immunity from attack, and my men will not attack in return."

She stared at me like she was seeing something she hadn't observed before. In fact, she seemed almost impressed. She was silent for awhile, mulling it over.

"I grant you your month, Arthur Castus," she finally said. The man behind me hissed in anger, and she yelled something at him in her language before continuing. "One month. If you are not gone by dawn on the thirtieth day, we will commence battle. You can be sure of that. Let him go."

The arrow tip that had been cutting my neck was lifted, and I dropped my arms. "Thank you," I said earnestly. She nodded, and I turned to leave.

"Just one more thing," she said hastily. I turned, and she was pointing at the trees to my right. "That way, about two miles in, there is an embankment. If you go past it, the treaty of this week is void." Her eyes came back to mine, and I could see the honesty in them. "And I _will_ kill you myself."

*+*Aderyn*+*

I would never know how I had enough strength to tow the man back to Egryn. He was much heavier than I expected, and I fell many times. Thankfully, Egryn was being smart today and kneeled slightly so I could lay the man across the saddle, and tie him in with the rope that had been around the tree to tether the horse. I lifted myself into the saddle behind him, and took off into a gallop towards my house.

I was slightly worried about what the pace would do to his wounds, but I needed to move quickly. Without anyone else to help me save him, I couldn't waste precious seconds making sure he was comfortable.

I heard a horse behind me, and groaned. Which of the other soldiers was following me? I turned, and was caught off guard, seeing a lone horse. It was wearing battle armor and was saddled, but had no rider. It was easily catching up to me, and was soon on my tail. The only explanation was that it was this man's horse. I didn't have time to marvel at the loyalty of the beast before we arrived at the cottage.

I jumped off Egryn, and ran into the house, grabbing a large pot. I ran outside and piled a load of snow into it before lighting a fire and sticking the pot over top of the flames. I needed hot water for bandages.

The man's horse was kicking up a fuss, pawing at the ground, and nipping at the man's arms like she was trying to wake him up. I ignored the mare as I untied the binds around him, and eased him from the back of the saddle. I staggered when all of his weight landed in my arms, but I managed not to jostle him too much. With my hands under his arms, I dragged him into the cottage and laid him on my bed.

The laces on his armor were at his left side, and I tugged them loose with shaking fingers. I tossed it aside, and cut his tunic off with my dagger to allow me plenty of access to his injury.

Drenna had me heal some of her wounds as practice, just in case I was hurt and she wasn't around. But this was not like the gashes and scratches she'd let me tend to. It was bleeding terribly, dripping down his sides like melting ice. It wasn't too deep, but it was large enough to make the threat of death from blood loss very real. Instinct kicked in, and my hands took over before I knew what I was doing.

I used the remnants of his tunic to put pressure on the gash, in order to stop the blood flow. It was hard though because I only had two hands, and the wound stretched across his entire torso. I concentrated on sections of it at a time, my hands shaking whenever blood welled through my fingers.

I left him there, sprinting outside to grab the snow that had melted and morphed into hot water. I jogged back inside awkwardly, burdened with the heavy pot. I was so glad it had a handle. I'd stolen a lot of useful things from soldiers over the years.

I set the pot down next to him, and then ran to a small chest by the door, throwing it open. I grabbed a needle, thread, several strips of cloth, a jar filled with an ugly green paste, and a skin that was filled with wine. I ran back, and dropped to my knees next to the bleeding man.

I opened the skin, and poured the wine over my hands to sanitize them. I used the hot water to clean the wound, carefully running the cloth over his skin. I was surprised he didn't wake from the pain of the scalding water, but was glad he didn't. I tossed the bloodied material aside, and poured the remaining wine over the wound to cleanse it.

After that, I retrieved the jar with the green stuff in it. It was a mixture Drenna made that helped to stop infection. I had no idea what it was, really, but I trusted her judgment. Once I had it open, I hesitated. She said it needed to go _in_ the wound, but I didn't fancy digging my fingers into some strange man's chest cavity. This was a life or death situation. I sucked it up, dug my fingers into the jar, and started to rub the stuff into his wound.

I knew it had to hurt, even unconscious. It was very invasive and, but I had to do it. I was becoming extremely nauseous, feeling his sliced skin against my fingers.

"I'm helping you, I swear I'm helping you," I muttered to him, hoping he could hear me.

Once I'd covered the whole wound, I wiped off my hand, and picked up the needle and thread. I ran out to the fire that was still burning, and held it over the flame for about a minute. I rushed back inside, and threaded it. I'd stitched before, but never this much. However, I had a feeling the man would favor this method over cauterizing just as much as I would. So I stole myself, and started to work.

It took so long that my hand was cramping. I kept going though, furiously working through the pain in my wrist. It occurred to me that he was in a _bit_ more pain than me, so I sucked it up. My shoulder tensed at one point, and I jerked it unceremoniously, mumbling to myself about bad timing.

When I was done, I cut the thread with my dagger. I picked up the white cloth, and dipped it into the melted snow, which had cooled so that it was warm instead of boiling, thank the sky. I lifted him up a little, and kneeled behind him. I rested his head on my shoulder to keep him up, and wrapped the hot bandage around the length of his torso just tight enough so that it didn't hurt him. I laid him back down, and admired my work.

I was proud of myself to be honest. There had never been a reason to develop a strategy for saving a random dying man, but I'd done pretty well despite not having one. Noticing that the blanket underneath of him was rather bloody, I pulled it out, panting with the effort. I tossed it over with the other bloody things, and laid a clean one on top of him.

I picked up my water skin, and took a long drink, staring at him all the while. There was a lot of sweat on his face, so I picked up an unused piece of bandage, and wet it with my drinking water. I pushed back his tangle of dark hair and braids, and wiped it across his forehead. I could see his eyes darting around beneath his eyelids, and wondered what he was dreaming about.

"Sleep well, soldier," I whispered. "You are safe now."

*+*Arthur*+*

With my armor back on, I felt much more safe, and with Excalibur strapped to my hip, that feeling only intensified. The men around me had set up a camp while I'd been gone, and now they were preparing for a search.

Dagonet had time to properly bandage his fingers, and had stitched up the ones who had larger cuts. Gawain had a slight limp, but was vehemently claiming to anyone who asked that he was fine. It was obvious that he really just didn't want to draw the focus away from Tristan, and the others obliged his request and stopped asking him.

I'd told them of Drenna's words, but not my sure instinct that he was alive. Galahad was being very vocal about how positive he was that we would come across his body in his horse's saddle somewhere in the woods. I could see the look in Bors's eyes whenever he said it, agreeing with him. I just knew though: Tristan was alive somewhere.

I could feel Lancelot's eyes on me as I mounted my horse, but he didn't say anything. I could sense that he had words on his tongue that were itching to be let loose, but he didn't oblige them.

"Alright, we'll comb the West side," I said firmly, gesturing to the section of trees I was referring to. "Stay well clear of the Woad camp, and _do not_ shoot at anyone."

"That's a new one," Gawain muttered, devoid of his usual humor. I didn't even spare him a glance as I rode off into the trees, the man spanning out on either side of me in a long line to search for the missing scout.

/\/\/\/\/\

We'd been at it for hours, striding through the forest on horseback, calling Tristan's name. We'd come across nothing useful, not even tracks. Well, we might have come across tracks and not recognized them. We were all piss poor at tracking, unlike the man we searched for. Dark was falling, and it would be time to call it a night soon.

Lancelot had come closer to me, and was looking around with wary eyes. "You don't think he is dead," he said quietly, trying not to catch the attention of anyone else.

I shook my head. "I know he's not," I replied. "I do not know how, but I can sense it."

"Do you believe the Woads will stick to their word?" he asked, trying to sound casual. I knew he didn't believe them. Lancelot had little faith in anything or anyone.

"Yes, I do," I responded firmly, leaving no room for argument. He nodded stiffly, and moved further away from me, effectively ending the conversation.

"We'll never find him!" Galahad finally exclaimed. He'd dismounted his horse awhile ago, and had been leading it along beside him. Now he kicked a protruding tree root with all the force he possessed.

"We will," Dagonet replied calmly. "You need to concentrate on the task, Galahad."

"No," Gawain responded before Galahad could. "What we all need is for these damned last months to be up so we can get the hell off this island."

When Gawain spoke, I'd looked over at him. He was heading towards a line of trees ahead, and I could see a slight dip where the land descended in a steep hill. With a jolt, I remembered Drenna's warning.

"STOP!" I bellowed. All of the knights did, looking around at me. Galahad was startled, and tripped, landing hard on the leafy ground. "Don't go over there, Gawain!"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "What are you talking about?"

"I was told by their leader not to go down there, or the treaty is void," I said quickly. "We'll all be shot before we can even draw our swords."

Gawain eyed the land he'd been walking towards suspiciously, but backed away.

"Why are we forbidden from there?" Lancelot asked.

"She did not say," I answered. "She was willing to grant us the week, so I did not question her motives or conditions."

I looked up at the darkening sky while all of the men exchanged wary glances. They didn't trust Drenna, and nor did I. But if she didn't want me going down there, I would oblige. I just assumed it was a burial ground or something sacred of that sort. I wouldn't want Woads trampling all over our burial ground at the Wall.

"We have to head back," I decided. "We'll resume tomorrow at dawn."

I turned around, trying my best not to notice the rather mutinous looks I received from Galahad and Gawain.

**So, Tristan's gonna live. God this story would suck if she saved him and he died right away. What would the point even be of writing that? xP**

**Annnnnyway, how about three reviews? Sound cool with everyone? :) Please and thank a-you.**


	6. Give Me A Sign

**So I don't really have anything to say, which is great because you guys can get to reading faster.**

_"I see nothing in your eyes, and the more I see, the less I like. Is it over yet in my head? I know nothing of your kind, and I won't reveal your evil mind. Is it over yet? I can't win. So sacrifice yourself, and let me have what's left. I know that I can find the fire in your eyes. I'm going all the way. Get away, please. You take the breath right out of me. You left a hole where my heart should be. You've gotta fight just to make it through 'cause I will be the death of you."-Breaking Benjamin_

*+*Aderyn*+*

Taking care of a mortally wounded man is even harder than it sounds. It leaves no room for regularity, so I was falling quickly behind in my usual upkeep of my precious home. It had only been a day, and I was already getting frustrated. I hadn't even slept last night. I felt strangely light in my sleepy stupor, like there was nothing holding me to the earth. There was a certain giddiness there too, and I felt awkward urges to giggle at random times.

I'd thrown out the soldier's bloodstained tunic, and some of the ruined materials I'd used. I'd washed the blankets of the blood, but my tunic wasn't salvageable. It was sitting sadly at the front of my house, waiting to be disposed of. I'd really liked that one too.

I was terrified to leave my house for fear that he would wake up. I didn't want him to get violent at the knowledge that he didn't know where he was, but I also didn't want him to go into shock. I couldn't leave the perimeter, so I made some precautions to ensure that I wouldn't have to. I made several quick trips to the river to collect many buckets of water in order to make sure there was enough for both horses to drink, for me and the man to drink, and for me to wash up in.

The man's horse didn't seem to trust me very much. Whenever she looked at me, it was like a glare, and she never turned her back on me. Egryn, however, was delighted to have a companion in his stall. The mare eyed him with disdain, like she was ashamed that he was of her species.

"Do you see her, Egryn?" I asked as I filled his feed bucket. "She is how you are supposed to act. You have no dignity, nor do you have shame." I smiled at the white horse, and reached my hand out towards her. "And you're just so pretty, aren't you, girl?" She eyed me cautiously. "I won't hurt you, I promise. You want an apple?"

I pulled two apples from a bag I'd brought, and tossed one to Egryn. He caught it in his mouth, and the way he ate it reminded me strongly of Drenna. I scowled at him as I offered the other one to the mare.

"A peace offering," I told her. Her eyes lit up, and she immediately marched forward and took it. I gently touched her snout, and she allowed me to stroke her neck.

"Well, you seem to like apples," I said decisively. "Does your master feed you them?" She looked at me with one of her big brown eyes, and snorted.

"Do you miss him?" I whispered. She didn't answer, of course, but I knew she did. No horse followed a man like that unless there was a true bond there. Although Egryn was a bit slow in the brain area, I trusted that he would do the same for me.

I left the horses to themselves after that, and decided that I could get some work done on making some new clothes while I waited for the soldier to wake up. I needed more after the loss of the outfit I was wearing when I saved the soldier, and I needed practice. I had trouble making anything that wasn't square. That was why I had so many blankets and furs.

I was almost in the door when I heard it: the familiar bird cry that announced Drenna's approach. I froze, feeling terrified. I hadn't even considered Drenna! I knew she would not react kindly to the sight of the man who'd just spent the better part of yesterday killing off her people. What would she say when she saw him lying in my bed?

She wouldn't say anything. She wouldn't see him. I slammed the front door shut and returned with my usual response. Drenna very rarely ventured into my house on her visits anymore, and now didn't have to be any different. I couldn't get in trouble if she didn't know what I'd done.

She appeared without warning, donning her usual garb. She wasn't wearing the sacred paint today though, and I admired how her skin remained so tan when the sun barely shone here.

"I cannot stay for long," she said hastily, skipping our usual greeting. "I come with a warning: do not travel past the embankment unless I come back and tell you it is safe. Do you understand me?"

"Why?" I asked. She glared, and I flinched at the sight of it.

"Now is not the time for questions, Aderyn!" she snapped. "I have never led you wrong before, have I?" I shook my head. "Then promise me!"

"I promise," I replied, not hesitating this time.

She nodded, and turned to leave. I was a bit taken aback by her visit, but I trusted her to keep me safe. She was right: she'd never led me wrong.

"What is that?"

I jumped, startled. I'd thought she left, but she was still there. I followed her sharp gaze to the bloody tunic that was thrown up against the wall of the cottage. Drat.

"Oh, that is…," I started. Thinking quickly under pressure wasn't really my forte. "That's just rabbit blood. I accidentally hit the jugular when I was skinning the thing, and it practically exploded." I tried to laugh like I was mocking myself, but it sounded more like I was terrified.

She looked at me suspiciously. "A ydych yn gorwedd i mi?" she asked, keeping her anger quelled.

My eyes nearly exploded from my head, and I shook my head so fast that my vision blurred. "No! No, I would not lie!" I answered hastily.

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. "Da. I will see you in a few days then, whenever I can return. I have much to do, due to…recent happenings."

I nodded, and made sure she disappeared from the area this time before I let out a loud, relieved breath. That had been rather scary. I'd never had to lie to her before, so it was strange, unpleasant, and very guilt-bringing to do so now. I couldn't wait for the time when this bastard could return to his people so I could stop the facade.

I sighed, and rubbed my hand over my face. Remember when my life was simple and uncomplicated? Nor do I.

I stepped into the cottage, and picked up the half-sewn tunic I'd started a few days ago. I resumed stitching it, stopping every once in awhile to nurse a pricked finger. I sung a Woad song under my breath while I did so, absorbed in the pattern of my stitching.

I heard movement, and froze, keeping my eyes on my work. When I didn't hear anything again, I just assumed it was my imagination and went back to what I was doing. I heard it again though, and this time I tossed aside my sewing and pulled my sword from the sheath at my hip. I walked to the entrance to my cottage, keeping my weapon aloft. I cracked the door a little, and peered outside. The only movement I saw came from a nesting sparrow in a nearby tree, and a rabbit that was swiftly sprinting away from the almost inaudible noise I'd made when I opened the door. There was nothing there that could have made the unidentifiable sound, but I was certain I'd heard _something_.

It sounded again, a muffled sort of groan, but it wasn't coming from outside. It was behind me.

I whirled in one swift movement, pointing my sword at the empty room. No one was there, but I'd heard someone. A movement caught my eye, and I looked at the ground. It had been the solider all along. He was waking up.

I sheathed my sword, and took a few long strides to stand next to him. His eyes were slowly opening, so I dropped to my knees near his head. I put my hand on my thigh, just on top of where a small dagger was nestled. If he tried anything, I wouldn't hesitate to take the life I'd saved.

His eyes finally opened all the way, and he looked around. Suddenly he sat upright, but so fast that he smacked his head into mine.

"Mab i gi benywaidd!" I exclaimed, clutching my left cheek. He'd grunted, and slumped back down on the bed, holding his nose. "You bloody idiot!"

Now that he was alerted of my presence, he didn't seem very keen to it. He glared at me, tensed like a fox preparing to take down a rabbit. I glared back, clutching the surely bruised cheekbone he'd just assaulted with his face. For awhile, it was a silent clash of wills. I finally broke the tension with an angry sigh.

"Are you in any pain, besides the nose you probably just crushed?" I asked bitterly. He said nothing, but continued to scowl at me. "Listen, I'm trying to help you. If you're in pain, you need to let me know."

His eyes darkened and narrowed, and then darted around the cottage quickly, assessing his surroundings. He shifted position a little, and I noticed his fingers groping around his hip where a dagger used to be hidden before I removed it. The fact that he was weaponless did not seem to sit well with him, as the corners of his mouth turned down the slightest bit. His gaze landed back on me, and he pounced without warning.

I shrieked as he landed on top of me with one forearm against my throat and the other arm holding him up. I could barely breathe, but I'd pulled my dagger out on instinct and pressed it to firmly into his ribcage. His eyes were two small slits as he laid on top of me, choking me while I dug the sharp blade into his skin.

"You are a fool!" I spat. "You've most likely just ripped out every single one of your stitches, and I worked hard on them for a long time!"

"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. His voice was deep and smooth, and it awoke something in me that I repressed while awake. Suddenly I didn't see him on top of me anymore; I saw a large barbarian wearing thick furs, and whispering dirty things into my ear…

I screamed like a banshee, and, with a level of strength I didn't know I possessed, I flipped us so that he was beneath me. I must have caught him off guard or hurt him because his eyes were bulging when I looked down on him. I pushed the point of the knife into his throat, and sneered at him.

"Listen to me right now, you worthless pig," I growled, pushing my face as close to his as I could get without touching him. "I saved your pathetic life. I could have let that man kill you, but I didn't. _You _are at _my _mercy, not the other way around. So I think it's about time you started appreciating what I did instead of threatening the person who helped you."

His face was expressionless, but I took his silence as submission. I stood up, but kept my dagger held tightly in my hand. He tried to stand, but he couldn't. I watched for a moment, but finally sighed in defeat. I shoved my dagger back in it's location in the strap around my thigh, and grabbed his arm to throw across my shoulders. I heaved him to his feet, which was considerably easier with his help. I could tell he was struggling against me as I steered him back to the bed, but I forcefully laid him back down. His eyes bore into me as I crouched next to him.

"I need to leave," he said lowly. I felt undeniable relief when his voice didn't yield a flashback this time.

"You can't," I responded simply. I held both hands out, gesturing to him. "Look at yourself. You cannot even stand. If you ride back to wherever it is you're from, you will die. And I will not let you waste the amount of thread I used on you."

He scowled again, which seemed to be his most dominant facial expression. "I have to go back."

"And you will," I told him. "When you are well, you can walk right on out of here. Good riddance to you." I mock-saluted him as I stood, and went to retrieve a water-skin. I went back over to him, and sat heavily near his head. I was going to hand the skin to him until I saw his eyes. They looked glazed over and his eyelids were half-closed, like he was desperately fighting sleep. I hesitantly put my arm out, and held up his head for him. I was actually rather surprised he let me assist him, but he didn't protest. I helped him drink until he was satiated, and then let him lie back down.

"I have to check your stitches," I told him. "You might have pulled them when you were leaping all over the place."

He grunted in reply, and I just took that as a positive and took out my dagger. He never took his eyes off of the short knife as I sliced down the length of his bandages. I tossed the soiled cloth to the side, and inspected the length of his wound. There was a small bit of blood, but no actual tearing. I sighed with relief, not feeling at all up to going through all of what I did to save him again. I did not want to put that green paste back on him, and I doubt he would have let me do so willingly now that he was awake.

I stood up, and grabbed some more bandages before going back to him.

"I have to lift you up," I informed him. He didn't reply in any way this time, so I just slowly lifted him into a sitting position. He didn't grimace, flinch, or look pained in any shape or form. I wondered why he was hiding it. You don't get wounded like that and not feel it. It must have been some sort of ridiculous male pride thing.

I wrapped him tightly in the dry bandages, and tied it off securely at his back. I nudged him back down, and put the blanket back over him. He was looking at me strangely, but I ignored it.

"I have to send a message to my men," he said. "They need to know where I am."

"I have no way of sending messages," I said quickly. The last thing I needed was an army of Romans charging in here to retrieve a soldier that I wasn't supposed to have in my house. That would ruin the whole plan of not telling Drenna, and everyone would know where I was as well. On a side note, they would probably kill me, so it wouldn't matter if my location was known or not.

"My horse will know where to bring it," he replied.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "How did you know your horse was here?"

"She goes everywhere I go."

I cocked my head to the side as I stared at him. I wasn't sure whether I should tell him that there were a lot of reasons he shouldn't be here or not. Would he use that to his advantage to blackmail me in someway? I didn't want to risk it, but I had no other reasons to not let him send a message. I could see my own defeat, and frowned.

I sighed frustratedly, and glared at the ground. "You cannot send a message, alright? If you do, people will know where to find me, and I don't want a load of soldiers down here, trampling all over my life."

I could feel his eyes on me, creating a strange prickle up my spine, but I didn't return it. I stared at the dirt ground of the cottage, and contemplated just killing him so that all of my problems would go away. It was a nice thought, but I couldn't do it. I'd saved him for a reason, even if I didn't know what it was yet. There had been some sort of strange moment where I reacted without thinking, going purely on instinct. He must have a purpose. Then there was the fact that I would never kill someone who was not threatening me in some way. I was not a murderer. And there was also the thing about him having used too much of my precious thread.

"Look," I said in a clipped tone, "you'll be as good as new in two weeks, if not a little more. I think your precious cavalry can last that long without you. So just…wait."

I couldn't feel his eyes anymore, so I snuck a glance at him. He was staring at the ceiling, void of emotion yet again. I wanted to know what he was thinking. He obviously didn't like to reveal much emotion to anyone, but I just wanted to break down that wall with my sword and shake him until he was forced to tell me what was going on in his head.

"What is your name?" I asked eventually, when the silence became too much.

He ignored me, keeping his expressionlessness aimed towards the sky.

"So you have no name," I said sardonically. "Where are you from?"

I was a little annoyed when he continued to act oblivious of my questions and presence this time. I'd saved his damn life, but he was acting like I was some sort of annoying child that he wanted to go away. If I went away, he would die within the week!

"No home either then," I muttered angrily. "And apparently you have lost your voice. Alright then."

I stood, and returned to the chair I'd been in when he'd woken up. I picked up my sewing, and proceeded to continue what I'd been doing.

Although I was acting like he wasn't there, there was no way to effectively ignore him. His presence was much too strong, like his lack of actual emotion was made up in his aura or something. He shifted a little in the blankets, and even that small movement had an air of power behind it. He was a talented fighter. I wanted to ask him if he'd been going easy on me back when I'd fought him in the forest, but that would have defeated the point of our mutual oblivion. Besides why would he go easy on me? I doubted he had any qualms about killing people that were in his way.

I sighed in annoyance when I pricked myself, and wiped the dot of blood from my finger onto my tunic. My eyes accidentally landed on the man as I went to return my focus back to my work, and he was looking right at me. I flinched at the intensity of his eyes, narrowed slightly as he watched me. He looked exhausted, and when he blinked it took awhile for his eyes to open back up.

"Tristan," he slurred suddenly. My eyebrows furrowed. "My name is Tristan."

With that said, he went right back to sleep.

**A ydych yn gorwedd i mi?: Do you lie to me?**

**Da: Good**

**Mab i gi benywaidd : Son of a bitch (literally translates to son of a female dog, but you get the gist)**

**That concludes chapter six! :) Yessiree.**

**So, I'm thinking four reviews? Please? I offer love in return! Haha. :D**


	7. Come Back to the End

**So I planned on putting this up yesterday because I got the amount of reviews I asked for in like three hours, but I got distracted and here we are. :P **

**Anyway, on with chapter seven!**

_"I hope you're not intending to be so condescending. It's as much as I can take. And you're so independent. You just refuse to bend, so I keep bending 'til I break."-Staind_

*+*Aderyn*+*

He didn't wake for the rest of the day, and I worried that he might actually starve if I didn't wake him and force him to eat. I wasn't really an expert on starvation or hideous injuries. When I finished the construction of my latest tunic, I just sat in the chair and watched him sleep. He was much more tolerable this way. His face was so peaceful, and I had an overwhelming urge to touch the tattoos on his cheekbones. There were two streaks of black on each one. I figured they must be some sort of signature, like the men who forced the ones they killed to stare into their eyes before they died so they'd know who killed them.

I had tattoos as well, all of them given to me by Drenna. I had a Woad symbol on my left shoulder that meant "peaceful life", and two just under my belly button that meant "native outsider". I'd laughed when she told me what it meant. She'd established my distant connection with the Woads in that one.

My favorite was the beautifully done black feather on the side of my neck. When I'd asked her what it meant, she'd smiled mysteriously and said that it was almost like a good luck charm. It felt like she was hiding something from me, but I never asked her what.

It was getting dark, and I knew I needed something to eat. I wasn't sure if going out to hunt was a good idea though. I could come back, and he would be gone…actually, that would have been good for me. But I couldn't let go of that nagging feeling that I couldn't just allow him to die.

I groaned at my own predicament and kicked the leg of another of the chairs immaturely. It was nice when my only problems were too much to do with not enough time. This was beyond infuriating. I wondered why everyone didn't just live alone.

I stood, grabbing my bow and quiver of arrows, and went outside. I'd be damned if that intruding bastard waltzed into my life on a warhorse, and switched everything all around. I was going to do what I had to do, and he was just going to have to wait for me instead of the other way around.

I walked around to the stables, and saddled and bridled Egryn while Tristan's horse watched me critically. I glared at her, suddenly less fond of the mare now that I knew the nature of her master.

"Peidiwch ag edrych ar mi fel 'na!" I snapped at her. She snorted angrily, and turned away like she was disgusted with me.

I mounted Egryn, with my bow over my shoulder and my quiver strapped across my back. After digging my heels into the sides of my stallion, we were off, sprinting through the trees at a rather redundant pace. Honestly, whatever animal I could possibly hunt was probably scared miles away from where I rode. I was just so frustrated that I used my horse to vicariously get my anger out.

I eventually stopped at the edge of the embankment, and stared at the border of which I wasn't allowed to cross. The rebellious side of me wanted to run up there and investigate the reasons why I wasn't allowed to cross it, but the logical part of me knew that Drenna wouldn't ban me from anywhere without solid reasons. I sighed, and nudged Egryn into a slow walk, circling the trees for an animal that hadn't heard me tearing through the woods.

I strung my bow, and knocked an arrow, waiting for any edible animal to make an appearance. I stared at the ground as we passed over it, and smiled when I saw a lone set of deer tracks. Perfect.

I hopped off Egryn, pulled a length rope from one of his saddlebags, and held one finger to my lips once I was facing him. He tossed his pale mane, but made no sound. I walked with my bow drawn, ready to loose the arrow as soon as possible. This was the worst part of hunting: the actual killing.

I heard a distinct tearing sound, and leaned slowly around a tree. Up ahead was the small deer, yanking some tall grass from the ground for food. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then took aim. I drew back only slightly, and then let the arrow go.

It hit its target: right in the animal's ribs. The animal fell and remained still, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I hated when they were still alive and I had to put them out of their misery. They had this panicked look in their eyes, and it almost pleaded with you to finish them. It was heart-wrenching.

I pulled the arrow out, and wiped it off on the ground before sticking it back in the quiver. I used the rope to bind the creatures legs together, and then dragged it from there to Egryn. The stallion had found a conveniently placed apple tree, and was grabbing the fruit from some of the branches.

"Good boy, Egryn!" I said happily. I'd given my last apples to the horses yesterday, and the fruit weren't in season. This one must have been late blooming. I pulled out my sword, and swiped at the tree, loosing at least a dozen of the sweet, green fruits. I picked them up, and put them into a saddlebag. I used the rope to attach the animal to Egryn's hindquarters, just behind me, and then mounted.

I rode back feeling much better. A good ride into the forest on Egryn always made me feel better. The stress was still gnawing at the back of my mind, but I could ignore it out here for a time. I passed the embankment at a slow canter, not even glancing in its direction.

"Hey! Hey, lady!"

I nearly fell out of the saddle with shock. An arrow was nocked and my bow aimed in a few quick movements. I stared at the man who'd spoken. He was standing at the top of the embankment, staring down at me from several yards away. His hair was black, wild, and curly. He had an untamed beard and mustache that were a slightly lighter color than his hair. He was close to my age, and was wearing a black tunic and matching kilt. I nearly scoffed. Didn't he know we were in Briton? It would snow without any sort of warning, and his knobby, pale knees were quite bare.

He looked taken aback at my reaction to his presence. His eyes trailed over my bow expressionlessly. He pulled out a sword, and then we just stood there, staring at one another with our weapons raised. I didn't know what he planned on doing with that sword of his from this distance. I clearly had the advantage in this situation.

Without thinking, I spoke the Woad language, forgetting that he wouldn't be able to understand me. "Beth yw eich busnes yn y goedwig?"

His eyes widened. "I…do not…speak…your…language," he replied, waving his arms wildly to illustrate what he was saying. "If you…shoot me…no…more…peace."

My eyes narrowed. What was he talking about, 'no more peace'? He was obviously deranged. He wasn't dressed like a soldier, and he clearly wasn't native. Perhaps he was just a wanderer with a bit of a mental problem. He obviously wasn't right in the head, what with his strange hand signs and thinking he could fight me with a sword from meters away.

I lowered my bow, and turned away. I wouldn't kill him when he obviously couldn't even figure out what was going on. I did not kill without a purpose.

"Hey, wait!" he yelled after me. I didn't stop, just galloped away, back to the camp so I could make dinner for me and my infuriating charge.

*+*Arthur*+*

We searched again today, but there was nothing to really give us any hint as to where the scout had gone. There were tons of human tracks, but we didn't know if they were his or the Woads'. The only horse tracks we could see were beyond the embankment, where we obviously couldn't go. Gawain continued to voice his suspicions of that.

"Why would they tell us not to go down there?" he said while we we ate a quick lunch that consisted of very small rabbits Dagonet caught. "Their camp is on the other side, heading West! What is their need for land miles away?"

"I think it may be a burial ground," I told him firmly. "You would not want men trampling the graves of your family underneath horse hooves, would you, Gawain?"

He shook his head, but continued to grumble under his breath. I could tell the others were disheartened as well, the exception being Dagonet. He'd always followed what I said without question, and now was no different. He slowly spun the last rabbit on the spit with his good hand, looking completely content with the situation. Or at least as content as the silent man ever looked.

"Where is Galahad with the damned wood?" Lancelot suddenly snapped. "There are trees everywhere! How hard is it to find wood?"

"It's been raining," Dagonet answered calmly. "Suitable wood for a fire will be difficult to find."

Lancelot glared, and Bors poked his portion of cooked rabbit with a disgusted look. I could understand how difficult it was for a man who went home to cooking like Vanora's to eat bland meals like we did when we were on missions.

The tension among the men was running high, nearing breaking point. I knew that if we didn't find Tristan soon, there would be a confrontation of some sort.

Suddenly the sound of something moving fast through the trees echoed around us, and all of the men tensed. Bors clutched the knife he'd been using to cut his meat tightly, and Lancelot's hand twitched towards the twin swords on his back. I shook my head. If it was a Woad, we could not attack unless they did.

The sound got closer, and then Galahad burst through the trees, running towards us. He stopped in front of me, panting. He leaned over to clutch his knees, and Gawain sighed with relief.

"What the hell are you doing?" the blond man snapped. "You scared the living-"

"I was by that bank…looking for wood," he said, trying to catch his breath and speak at the same time. "Some girl showed up on a horse. I tried to catch her attention, and she raised her bow at me. She said something in the Woad language, and I told her I couldn't understand her and then I told her that she couldn't shoot me or she'd break the truce. And then she just took off into the trees."

"Why is that so newsworthy?" Lancelot said disdainfully. "And why don't you have any firewood?"

"She was not a Woad!" Galahad persisted.

"You said she spoke in their language," I pointed out.

"Yes, but she was definitely not a Woad," he insisted. "She was young too, probably several winters younger than me, and her bow was of Roman design."

I stared at him, digesting that information. There was a woman in the woods who wasn't a Woad, but spoke their language. She had a Roman bow, and she didn't seem to want to socialize with anyone. It didn't sound very suspicious, but Galahad seemed to think there was something to it.

"Perhaps she is the ghost the soldiers speak of," Bors chuckled. Lancelot snorted, and even Dagonet smiled. Galahad glared.

"What if she was kidnapped by the Woads?" he asked. I suddenly understood why he was being so obdurate about the woman.

"I don't think so," I replied, trying to sooth the riled young man. "If she was, she would have probably run towards you instead of away. She wouldn't have spoken their language either. She's probably just a traveler who has a gift for picking up dialects, or she has Woad relatives. Nothing to worry about, Galahad."

He didn't seem placated, but gave up the idea. He was sitting for about a second until Lancelot poked him in the leg with the point of his sword.

"Ow!" he yelped, leaping away from the older knight. "What was that for?"

"If there is not wood beneath this fire in ten minutes, the wound I give you is going to be much bloodier," Lancelot threatened, pointing to the trees with his blade. "Get a move on."

And Galahad went, muttering about vain bastards and careless Romans.

*+*Aderyn*+*

An hour later I had a stew simmering merrily in a pot over dancing flames. I tossed another handful of herbs into the pot, and then clapped my hands together, feeling accomplished.

"What do you think, Egryn?" I asked, looking from the pot to my horse. "Edible?"

He snorted, and I grinned. "Thank you!"

I'd checked on Tristan earlier, and he was still sound asleep in the same position I left him in. I was torn between hoping he would stay that way for the remainder of his recovery and wishing he would wake up so that I could have more conversations with a human and less with my horse. Then again, he didn't seem very keen on human interaction.

I grabbed Egryn's reins, and led him around the side of the house. I picked up a bag of feed on the way, and then opened the stall door for him to go in. Tristan's horse was standing there, still looking resentful from earlier. I trailed in after Egryn, dropping the feed by the door.

"Oh, don't give me that look," I told her. I reached into Egryn's saddlebag, and pulled out one of the apples I'd found earlier, offering it to her. "I'm sorry, but your master is unintentionally rage-evoking. So blame him, not me."

She took the apple, and allowed me to pat her a few times. After that, I refilled the feed trough, and took off Egryn's saddle and bridle. I smoothed down his mane as I passed him to leave the stall.

"I want no funny business from you two," I said sternly as I latched the gate. "I don't need any foals around here. I already have a full grown one right here."

I went back around front, stirring the stew once before going back inside. Tristan was still asleep, and I peered at him for a moment, checking for signs of fever. He looked fine, so I went to the basin I'd filled for washing. I wouldn't have a chance to actually bathe in the stream for awhile with him here, so I'd just have to quickly wash up. I eyed the sleeping man, wondering if he'd wake up before I could quickly scrub my skin. I stared at him for a moment, and eventually decided that I could get away with a quick wash without him waking up.

I stripped off my tunic and pants, leaving me in only my strophium and subligar. I grabbed up the small bit of soap I had, and started to wash myself quickly in the cold water. I couldn't really wash my hair, so I just shoved my whole head into the basin. When I emerged, I was gasping from the effect of the cold water, feeling strangely wide awake considering I hadn't slept in nearly two days. I grabbed an absorbent cloth I'd stolen from a group of soldiers carting a Roman senator through the forest, and used it to soak up the water from my hair. When I turned, I shrieked with surprise, and tried to use the small cloth to cover my whole body.

Tristan was awake, and was staring at me shamelessly. I grabbed a blanket, and ran outside, slamming the door behind me.

I was breathing extremely hard, and shivering…because of the cold, of course. Not because his eyes had a strange effect on me. That was impossible. I clutched the blanket around me, nearly freezing out in the woods, and glared at the sky.

"It's spring!" I pointed out angrily. "Don't you think it is about time the cold is gone?"

The island didn't answer me, obviously, and that made me even angrier. I furiously kicked a bucket, feeling the blush that was still glowing on my face. I might as well get dressed. There was no need for me to stand out here wearing practically nothing, only being shielded by a blanket.

I went to grab my clothes when I realized I had none. I hadn't grabbed any before sprinting out here. I let out a long string of Woad curses in quick procession. Not only was I exposed and humiliated, I was going to have to face the man who'd caused it all. I took a deep breath as I turned to scowl at my front door. I hated my life.

I walked back in, not even looking at the soldier. I went to the trunk where I kept my clothes, keeping one hand firmly on the blanket hiding my body, and rifled through it. I picked a light blue tunic, and some brown leather breeches. I closed my eyes in irritation for a moment before turning to face Tristan. He was still lying there unobtrusively, eyes still following my every movement.

"Close your eyes," I commanded.

He stared for a second longer. I was thinking about telling him I would cut his eyes out, but he shut them before I could voice the threat. I tossed the blanket away from me and dressed as fast as was physically possible.

"You can open your eyes," I muttered, parting my soaking hair to the right side and shaking out the mess of waves.

He was staring again. He really had no shame at all. His eyes weren't on my face, and if I followed them, he seemed to be staring at my legs. These breeches felt entirely too tight now.

I cleared my throat obnoxiously. "I have a stew cooking," I told him. "I figure you're hungry."

He didn't answer, but he finally stopped looking at me. His eyes darted around everywhere they could reach, taking everything in. Suddenly the messy state of the place made me self-conscious, and I felt an urge to defend my humble abode. I didn't get a chance too though.

"What is back there?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse from lack of use. He nodded at the doors I'd boarded up in a fit of depression, and I went on the defensive.

"That is none of your concern," I said coldly. His eyes searched mine, so I turned away and left the house entirely.

I checked the stew, deciding it was ready. I picked up two bowls, and filled them. I left mine by the fire, and walked back in with his, kneeling next to him and setting it on the ground. I grabbed his shoulders, and pulled him up into a sitting position, resting him back against the wall.

"Here," I said, shoving the bowl and spoon at him unceremoniously. He took it, and started to devour his food without another word. I left him to it, going back to my bowl outside.

I ate alone, watching the birds swooping around through the trees. I'd started to learn how to identify birds, but eventually given up. I didn't see how it would help me, though Drenna said it would. I narrowed my eyes at a larger bird that I'd never seen the like of around here before. It was black with piercing eyes. The talons looked like small daggers gripping the tree branch beneath them. It noticed me watching it, and gave a loud shriek. I glared at it, and picked up my bowl. The bird called out again, and I turned back to it.

"Shut up!" I yelled. "I'm leaving, I'm leaving!"

I walked back into the cottage, and noticed Tristan was done eating. I picked up his bowl, and, using a small bit of soap and some water from my wash basin, cleaned out both of them and sat them on one of the chairs. I noticed a long dagger I'd been meaning to sharpen, and decided I really had nothing else to do without leaving the room. I picked it up, along with a smooth rock and started to sharpen it.

"What is your name?" he asked suddenly. I kept my head down, focused on my work.

"Aderyn," I answered. I was actually still rather furious with him for allowing me to bathe in front of him without letting me know that he was awake, and was certainly not in the mood for him to talk to me. He should have had this attitude adjustment earlier.

"You live here?" he asked. I nodded, and bit back the sarcastic comment on my tongue about how obvious that fact was.

"And you are alone." It wasn't a question, just a statement. It was said with implications though. Of what, however, I wasn't sure. I continued to sharpen the blade in my hand, my grip on the rock and hilt getting tighter and tighter with the effort of holding back angry words.

"Good observation," I said coolly. I saw him shifting so that he was sitting up straighter, and couldn't stop myself from looking at him.

His hair was hanging lank, in his face as usual. His face seemed flushed, but I couldn't really tell because he skin was pretty tan. He was sweating though, which was odd considering my fingers were actually slightly numb from the cold.

I'd crossed the room in a second, and had my hand pressed against his forehead. He flinched at how cold I was, but my eyes were widening. He was radiating heat like a bonfire.

"You have a fever," I said, aghast. His wound must have gotten infected, despite my attempts at holding it back.

He grunted, and looked away. "M'fine," he said gruffly.

"No, you're not," I snapped. I grabbed my bucket, and turned to look at him. "Lay down. I'll be back in a minute."

I didn't wait to see if he obliged. I jogged around the side of the house, and flung open the stable door. Egryn neighed happily at me, but I was already grabbing his saddle.

"No time to play, boy," I said, saddling him as fast as possible. I pulled the bridle onto him none too gently, and grabbed the bucket before jumping into the saddle.

"No holding back on me, Egryn," I said. He neighed, and started a sprint to the trees. He knew where to go when the bucket came with us.

He skidded to a halt, and I leapt off of him, running to the stream. It was completely iced over, so I hacked at it with my sword. Finally I had a decent sized hole, which I used to fill the bucket, and get back on Egryn. I had him go slower this time, so that I wouldn't drop the water I held in my arms. When we arrived back home, I jumped off Egryn, and led him back to the stables. I unsaddled him so quick that I would have been rather impressed with myself if I hadn't been so worried about quelling Tristan's fever as fast as possible.

I ran back in, and wasn't surprised to see that the man had not listened to me. He was still sitting up, but he was grimacing slightly as he looked at the opposite wall.

I grabbed an old tunic that was too small and cut it up into strips, dunking them into the freezing water.

"Lay down," I commanded. He glared at me, so I tried a new tactic. "Please?"

The defiance in his face melted into agitation, and he shimmied himself down into the blankets. I leaned forward, ignoring the twist in my stomach as I pushed his dark hair away from his forehead. He was staring at me with a calculating edge. I fought my blush tooth and nail, and laid one of the cold cloths against his forehead. He flinched again. I picked up another one, and slipped it around to the back of his neck. I put two more under his arms, two behind his knees, and put the biggest one on top of his bandages.

"Don't move around a lot," I said. "Anything could agitate your condition right now, and I really do not want a dead body on my hands."

"Are you a Woad?" he asked, ignoring my previous statements.

I sighed. This man had no attention span. Or maybe he just didn't care about anything I said. "No."

"You spoke the language before," he pointed out.

"I've learned things…living in this place, you have to pick up on things," I replied quietly. I didn't want to tell him that I'd been raised by a Woad because that would lead to questions about why I wasn't brought up by my parents. He would be gone soon, so he didn't need to know that.

He swallowed, and his Adam's apple bobbed a little. For some reason, that small movement made me blush, and I looked away from him. Suddenly I was painfully aware that he was wearing no shirt, and his arms were quite toned.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably, and stood. I had no idea what to do for a fever besides keeping him cool, so my work was done. It was all a matter of waiting and seeing now. I glanced back at him, and really hoped the waiting part wouldn't last too long.

**Peidiwch ag edrych ar mi fel 'na!: Do not look at me like that!**

**Beth yw eich busnes yn y goedwig?: What is your business in the forest?**

**Strophium and subligar are sort of undergarments that the Romans wore. From the Woads' clothes, I doubt they wore underwear, but I didn't think that Aderyn would follow that tradition. I used Roman stuff even though she's not Roman, but that's okay. Strophium was a sort of loincloth and subligar was a strip of cloth worn around the breasts. So as you can imagine, our dear Aderyn was just quite exposed.**

**If I was exposed in front of Tristan, I think I'd be okay with that. ;) HAHA! Just kidding...but not really.**

**Sooooo...four reviews again, if you please, my darlings. I love my reviewers more than most people in the world. :D**

**Thanks for reading, guys! :D**


	8. The Shepard of the Damned

**Helloooooo, everyone! :D I'd like to start by saying that I'm glad everyone's enjoying it so far! But I must say that the amount of visitors I'm getting compared to the amount of reviewers and alerts is disappointing. :( I'm starting to question my abilities. Is it getting boring already? If it is, **_**pleeeeeease**_** let me know. I don't want to write something that nobody's interested in. It's a waste of all of our time, honestly.**

**Anyway, I was at the mall today, and I had a very odd experience. There was a loud baby in the line behind me at one store, and the mother was like "Tristan, stop whining!" I turned around like O.O And then I was passing the movie theatre and there was a sign for a movie called Arthur, and I was like "Is this real life?" After that my friend introduced me to one of her friends, and I asked him what his name was. It was Lance. I almost died. I felt like a higher power was telling me I needed to update this story as soon as physically possible, hahaha.**

**This: -()-()-()-()- means the POV switches to third person. It'll only happen two or three times.**

**So anyway, go on with your readin' business. ;)**

_"I've gone for too long living like I'm not alive. So I'm gonna start over tonight, beginning with you and I. When this memory fades, I'm gonna make sure it's replaced with chances taken, hope embraced. And have I told you I'm not going? 'Cause I've been waiting for a miracle, and I'm not leaving. I won't let you, let you give up on a miracle when it might save you. We've learned to run from anything uncomfortable. We've tied our pain below, and no one ever has to know that inside we're broken. I try to patch things up again. So kill my tears, and kill these fears."-Paramore_

*+*Aderyn*+*

My sleep for the next few nights was sporadic, and just short of satisfying. Tristan kept me awake indirectly. His condition was steadily declining, and whenever I slipped into even a light sleep, I would wake moments later, terrified that he'd died while I'd had my eyes closed. He was always fine, of course, but it didn't keep me from worrying.

For two days he'd been in a fitful sleep that concerned me. Sometimes he would mutter, and it would seem like he was awake. I would talk to him them, trying to force him into consciousness. It never worked, and I felt the hope in me ebbing away.

For the first couple of days he'd been with me, I wondered why I wanted so badly for him to live. I realized eventually that it was because he was helpless when he was like this, even if he was a pain in my ass when he was awake. I'd been nursing him back from the brink, and whether we liked it or not, there was a bond between us now. It was shaky and fueled only by my own foolish actions to save him from a fate he probably deserved, but it was there.

Currently I was mopping the sweat away from his face and chest in a practiced way. These motions, this routine, had become familiar in the almost week and a half I'd been healing him. Gone were the days where I'd wake up to do housework before going to bed. I woke up, washed as best as I could, ate, tried to force some food down Tristan's throat, gave him water, changed his bandages, did everything I could to keep him cool and comfortable, talked to him when he became fitful, fed Egryn and Tristan's horse, ate again, tried to force Tristan to eat again, and slept as well as I could. I was slowly cracking from the stress, but I held it back efficiently.

I picked up the water-skin that was sitting next to me, and used it to pry the man's lips open. I poured several small trickles of water into his mouth, leaving time in between for him to swallow them. I felt his forehead, and groaned when it was still warm. What could I possibly do to help him? I'd done everything I knew how to!

"Why won't you get better?" I asked him. I intended for my words to come out angrily, but instead they were…gentle. "Can't you just give me a break? I know you are strong. I fought you for the gods' sake. I know you can pull through, so just…do it."

His eyes shifted beneath his shadowed lids, like he was listening to me. The fingers on the hand closest to me twitched, and I just stared at them. There were various scars all over his hands, and even more covering the rest of his skin. He must have been in battle many times before the one he fought against Drenna's tribe. The injury I'd been treating seemed to be the most extensive though.

His hand was just lying there, and for some reason I felt an urge to just…grab it. I wanted to take it, to let him know that I was here. There was a need burning in my heart, and it centered around knowing what his hand would feel like wrapped around mine.

I stood, pushing the urge as far from me as I could. Men weren't worthy of trust. The only ones I'd ever cared about had been killed. The good ones always died in this cruel world. If Tristan was alive, that meant he was probably one of the bad guys.

I sighed as I sat down against the wall, on the softest patch of ground in the room. I'd chosen it as my bed for the time being, until Tristan relinquished mine. It was another partial reason why I'd been sleeping so fitfully as of late. I missed my comfortable nest, but I knew it was being used for a better cause.

My eyelids felt unusually heavy. It was getting dark out, and my stomach was full with the stew I'd made. The weather had relented, and it was not nearly as cold as it had been. It was rather comfortable outside, not too cold or too warm. Part of me was wishing the cold had stayed for only a little bit longer, for Tristan's sake. But as usual, my wishes were granted at the worst possible time.

I felt myself slumping towards the ground, but did nothing to stop it. I was so overwhelmingly exhausted from recent events, and even this bit of dirt seemed like an inviting bed at the moment. My head hit the ground, and I was fast asleep instantly.

*+*Tristan*+*

"Why won't you get better? Can't you just give me a break? I know you are strong. I fought you for the gods' sake. I know you can pull through, so just…do it."

I heard it as if from far away, and my ears had to strain to decipher the mesh of words. The voice that spoke them was familiar, but I couldn't place how I knew it. The person sounded almost desperate, and a part of my brain wanted to reach out to them, to figure out who was talking to me through all of this darkness…

And why was it so dark? My memory was fuzzy like I was trying to see through thick glass. I remembered lying in a bed that wasn't mine, and feeling…trapped. I couldn't recall why I was there though or even where this was.

I was slowly coming back to awareness. Beneath me was something soft and comfortable, and the air around me was cool. Sweat clung to me like another skin. I kept my eyes closed though, just enjoying the silence around me. I rarely got that at the Wall. A whimper, like from an injured dog shattered the silence. I opened my eyes, and looked at the culprit.

Aderyn. With her name came everything that had happened recently. I'd been hurt in the fight with the Woads, and she'd brought me back here to help me. How long had it been? Another of the knights was probably attempting to learn scouting now, thinking that their original one was dead by British hand. Gawain would be the best choice, if I had to choose another of them to take my position. But they didn't actually have to find one. I was here, and I would leave eventually.

Another whimper came from the corner and brought my focus back to Aderyn. The girl was curled up near the wall of her small house, her dark hair fanning out behind her. Her eyebrows were pushed together from whatever bad dream she was having, and I could see her trembling. Suddenly she screamed, throwing herself sideways so that she was on her back. The moonlight hit her face, and I saw the tears shining on her cheeks. She continued to cry out, kicking her legs like she was fighting someone off.

"Ursus! Melita!" she suddenly sobbed.

I sat up slowly, feeling a dull throb of pain in my chest. It was much better than it had been. I'd been working hard to keep my pain hidden from her eyes, but it was hard. Even though I was good distancing myself from others, she seemed to be able to look at me once and know exactly what was going on in my head. It was unnerving.

I pushed the blanket off of me, and tried to pull myself up. I could stand, which was good progress. I took a staggering step forward, and nearly collapsed. I shuffled towards the wall, using it to hold me up as I stepped towards her.

I kneeled above her head, and my eyes landed on the dagger she'd been sharpening when I'd been asking her questions. I picked it up, and held it aloft, just above her heart. It would be swift and painless. She deserved that at least, for taking care of my wounds. But I needed to leave, and she wouldn't allow it. Normally I would have knocked her out the first time she said I couldn't and just left anyway, but I was too weak to even take down the small girl before me. I felt angered by my own weakness, and prepared to strike the final blow.

"Don't hurt me," she whispered pitifully. For a moment, I thought she'd woken up, but her closed eyes told me differently. She was still sleeping, lost in whatever dream was causing her so much pain. Another tear leaked out of her eye and left a track over her cheek, eventually rolling down her neck. I watched its progress, wondering what she dreamt about. Some of the men at the barracks experienced night terrors like this. No matter how nonchalant any man was about killing, he would dream of those he'd killed at night. I did. It didn't effect me like the others though. My dreams weren't really nightmares. I just saw their faces as they were right before I struck them down. It wasn't frightening…it was haunting.

Another shout drew my attention back to her, and I watched as she writhed a little before falling still. She was flat on her back, face pointed towards the sky with her arms held rigid by her side. She looked like the bodies in their wooden coffins before they were buried she was so perfectly positioned. It was an opportune moment; straight through her heart and I could go.

I raised the weapon one last time, and brought it down hard…into the dirt at my side. I slumped, glowering at her even though she couldn't see it. I couldn't kill her, that much was obvious. She'd saved my life. The other knights teased me about having no heart or soul and they were probably right, but it wasn't right to murder someone in their sleep when they'd saved you and had been continuing to keep you alive.

More tears escaped, and I reached out and touched her cheek gently without thinking about the gesture, catching one of them with a fingertip. I brought my hand back to my face, and stared at it. I don't know what I was expecting to see. It was just a tear. It wouldn't be able to explain her dreams to me or tell me why she cried. I stared at her face. No, I couldn't kill this girl.

I could leave though, and that was my plan. I stood again, using the wall to pull myself up. I felt nauseous at the movement, and bit my cheek hard to stop the yell of pain it caused. I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand, and spotted my boots, sword, tunic, and armor across the room. I sighed in irritation. She would put everything on the damned other side of the room. I started to trudge over, but halfway there I felt a ripping sensation in my chest and couldn't stop myself from gasping.

I'd ripped some of my stitches. I cursed under my breath, and grasped the stinging pain just above my stomach. Warmth seeped from under my hand, and I pulled it back. Blood was already welling through the bandage. I cursed again.

"Lie back down."

My head snapped in the direction the voice came from. It had been a long time since anyone was able to sneak up on me, but this Aderyn had achieved it rather easily. She looked ghostly in the moonlight. Her eyes were much darker, held in the shadows. She was all pale skin, dark hair, and long limbs. She looked like one of those angels from the Christian religion that Arthur spoke of. There were depictions in some places in the fort. That's what she resembled, but with a twisted, dark edge. I would have thought she was a ghost if I weren't able to see the tear tracks still lingering on her face.

I didn't say anything, just listened to her. The pain worsened when I was back on the bed that I now realized was hers. There was no other explanation for her sleeping on the floor. I heard movement, and then she was beside me, just as I had been to her only seconds ago.

She cut my bandages off, and examined me critically. Gently, she cut my stitches, and I could feel her pulling them out, slow chafing of thread on skin. Her face never unfocused from what she was doing, but she was detached somehow, like she wasn't really all there. I kept my eyes on her, just in case she suddenly snapped and decided she didn't want me around anymore. She started to restitch my injury without warning, and I tensed at the continued pinching as the needle pierced my skin. I hated this. I'd rather be shot with an arrow. As if she could sense this, she suddenly stopped and placed a hand comfortingly on my shoulder. Her eyes stared into mine, and I thought she would speak. She didn't; just relinquished my hand, picked up the thread, and continued to work.

After what seemed like ages she cut the thread, and took a wet cloth to wipe the excess blood away. The water was freezing, and I shivered. She gestured for me to sit up, and I did so. She pushed my arms up, and wrapped a new bandage around me. When that was finished, she tugged my arms back down, and then shoved me back until I was prone on the bed.

Instead of going back to her sleeping spot, she stared at me. I stared back. I'd never had any trouble with awkward situations, and this was no different. Galahad or Gawain would have recoiled under this sort of gaze, but I felt no intimidation. I didn't know if that's what she was going for or not. Her eyes were glazed over with sleep, and she started crying again before I could comprehend what was going on.

She curled up right where she sat, inches away from the nest of blankets I lay in, and continued to sob quietly into the ground. She reached out and took my hand, and I didn't pull it away. I felt some unusual emotion directed at her, one that I'd never felt before. Could this be what pity was like?

She squeezed my fingers gently right before her sobs grew quiet. I looked over to tell her that she could have her bed if she wanted, but she was already fast asleep. I stared at her hand, which was still wrapped around mine with a shockingly strong grip for someone who was asleep. I was tired as well, but I forced myself to stay awake. I didn't want to go back to that dark place I'd been.

Well, it might not be as bad as it was before. The voice had woken me up once, and it could do it again. As I thought on the voice, I stared at my hand, locked in Aderyn's grip. I followed a trail from her small hand, up her arm, and to her face. It all clicked into place.

It was her voice that woke me from the dark. She'd saved me yet again. My eyes narrowed. I owed her my life about three times over at this point.

Without thinking about it, I shifted my hand around until her fingers were laced through mine. Her hands were so small that I could have held both of them in one of mine. She mumbled in her sleep, scooting closer until one of her legs draped over the blankets. Both of our arms still separated us, but it seemed like we were miles apart.

We were really, but not in a location sense. She still had innocence, and a heart. I shifted my thumb over her wrist and felt her pulse, as if to prove it to myself. It beat steadily beneath her skin, and it was to that steady rhythm that I fell asleep.

-()-()-()-()-

The man crouched by the grave of his last remaining family member, his younger brother. His anger gave way only to his grief, but he stared at the unmarked grave tucked amongst the others. He'd sworn he'd keep him safe, but he'd failed. It wall because of the Sarmatians, the Romans' lapdogs and their leader, the great Arturius who killed his own people. He tasted the bitterness in his mouth at the very thought of the traitor, and spat over his shoulder.

It had taken all of his willpower not to shoot the bloody soldier when he'd come upon him unarmed, waving that white flag. The only thing that stopped him was knowing that Drenna would have been positively homicidal if she'd known what he'd done, and that would have set the remaining knights on them like flies to rotten meat. He was angry, yes, but not suicidal.

But now the very same murderers of his people trampled through the territory every day, yelling out for a man of their cavalry who'd mysteriously vanished during the fighting. They could be heard no matter where you went, and the young Woad man had a strong urge to just slice the throat of the large one with the bald head. He was constantly yelling out obnoxiously crude things, and it just needed to end, in his opinion. All of their lives should be ended, in the most painful way possible. They killed so many people that it would be good for them to get a taste of their own medicine.

Drenna was a fool for allowing them the month they requested. He would never be able to understand why she did most of the things she did, and the other Woads in the tribe had accepted that as well. Her most confusing act so far had been becoming a sort of surrogate mother to the orphan girl in the lone house below the bank. She still visited the girl as often as possible, and had others check on her if she couldn't do it herself.

She's insane, he thought mirthlessly.

He stood, and started to trudge away from his brother's final resting place. All that was on his mind was revenge. He would get it, and go to any extreme to do so. His target wasn't the whole of the Sarmatian cavalry, no. It was one man, the soldier that he'd seen run his brother through with his sword in one swift movement before swinging at his next opponent. He hadn't given the boy a second thought, just left him there with a gaping wound in his stomach.

Rage won the Woad man over even now. The soldier would pay, but first he had to find him. The missing Sarmatian was the one he wanted to kill, the one with the long dark hair and tattooed face. His only challenge was to find the bastard before his men did and dispose of him somewhere near them so that they could see his mangled body. And he would be mangled when he was through with him.

There was no question about it.

**There he is, creepy, no-name Woad man. Sometimes, I hate my own characters. This is one of those times. His sliminess will continue to increase as time goes on.**

**Anyway, let's talk about reviews. I'm thinking five to the next chapter. Remember, you can ask me to review one of your stories as long as it applies with those two conditions I told you about before. I'd be happy to do so.**

**Even if you hate this with all your heart and soul, please let me know. I want feedback, not someone constantly patting me on the back. :P (Although the nice reviews do make my day).**

**Thanks for reading! :D**


	9. I Can Feel You Falling Away

**Hello, everyone, and welcome to chapter nine! :D This is the longest chapter so far, and I think it's the longest chapter for this story overall. :P**

**Anyway, I've started another Tristan project which I think is much better than this one. It's got way more angst (which everyone knows I love), and I think I might post it along with this one. I'm also writing another Titanic fic (with Officer Lowe instead of Tommy) that I have to focus on too because I promised some people on here that I would write it. My main focus would be my two Tristan ones. If I post the other one, I might not write a sequel for this though. It all depends on feedback.**

**I made my mom watch King Arthur with me for the first time last night. Our conversation while Tristan died went like this: "WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. Back it the hell up! He dies?" "Yes, mother." "But...he was my favorite!" "Mine too." "I hate this movie."**

**I'm really close with my mother, but I've never felt more in sync with her than that moment. Hahaha.**

**Enjoyyy. :D**

_"He sees what's beneath her skin. He sees through her soul. Blue eyes and empty veins, her fortune unfolds. She steps out of her body that lies on the floor. Rise. Rise from the ashes. Sink teeth into her. She becomes the cure. Blood runs forever."-Scary Kids Scaring Kids_

*+*Arthur*+*

It had been a week and a half, and we hadn't found anything; not a track, a hint, or anything else that would tell us where Tristan would be. Even his horse was gone, and his hawk hadn't appeared. It was like any trace of the scout had literally vanished into thin air. He'd been like a ghost in real life, so perhaps it was appropriate that he should leave us this way: without a whisper of his whereabouts.

But I couldn't shake that feeling that he was here somewhere, alive. I couldn't sense anything beyond that. I didn't know if he was injured or confused (there was no way the excellent scout was lost), but I just _knew_ he was alive. I didn't even understand it myself, so it didn't surprise me that my men seemed to think I was losing what was left of my mind. I felt sane, but maybe they were right.

It was morning, so we were preparing for another day of scouring the forest. I could feel my recently custom frown on my face, and did nothing to make myself seem more optimistic. Optimism was lost on my men anyway. Their grumbles were starting to become louder, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to keep them at this much longer, whether we had a month or not.

I slid Excalibur into the sheath I'd attached to my horse's saddle, and thought over the places we could search. A throat cleared near me, demanding attention, and I focused on Gawain, who was standing next to me. He took a deep breath, like he was preparing himself for something unpleasant.

"Arthur," he said stonily, "this is mad. You'll have us check over the whole length of Briton to find him?"

"If that is what it takes," I said briskly, making my feelings about this only just-beginning conversation known.

"He's dead," Gawain replied. "Even if he did somehow ride away from the battle, injured or not, the Woads would kill him without a second thought. They probably took his horse and all his belongings after, so we would not have any way of knowing what happened."

I found myself glaring at the blond man, feeling an inexplicable amount of anger at him even though he was making much more sense than my strange inkling that the scout was still among the living. "Drenna would not have allowed us a month in her territory if she had already killed him. She would have told us to leave and not return."

"They would not have told her!" Gawain exclaimed exasperatedly. "They wouldn't want the treaty broken because we would attack! They would kill him off, and just say they stole the horse off of a random traveler!" I shook my head, which made Gawain scowl and ignited his buried resentment. "Arthur, why can't you understand that not everyone follows their leader as blindly as we follow you?"

Only when the dead silence reached my ears did I realize that the rest of the men had stopped to listen to us. Everyone became extremely tense, even Gawain and I. The horses didn't even seem to want to break the silence.

I glared Gawain down, but he held his ground. "Tristan is dead," he said coolly. "I do not know why you refuse to believe it."

"Do you remember your fifth year in Roman service, Gawain?" I asked loudly. "It was before we were all so friendly towards each other. We were fighting a band of Jewish rebels who tried to attack the Pope's carriage about ten miles away from us. Your leg was broken when we we went to retreat, and we left you there. Back then, it was just another one gone. Do you know who went back for you?" He averted his eyes to the ground, but his silence was answer enough. "It was Tristan. He rode through a rampage of angry men wielding swords to save you, and you are going to repay him by leaving him in these woods somewhere?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but I cut him off, looking around at everyone else. "He has saved all of you one time or another, indirectly or directly. I doubt any of us would be here if we didn't have him with us. We have underestimated his bravery on every mission we've ever been on. He trudges fearlessly ahead of us, encountering the enemy first to let us know what lies ahead." Suddenly I was absolutely furious with all of the men. I realized by their guilty expressions that they sent Gawain as a representative for all of their feelings about this search. "You all would leave him here? You would let him die slowly of an injury or let his body rot in a ditch here without a second thought? I will not allow myself to become as careless as all of you act! Tristan deserves a proper burial! We owe him our lives, and we can at least give him that much! If you are not all on your horses, ready to go in two minutes, there will be hell to pay!"

I lunged myself at my stallion, climbing into the saddle and charging ahead without looking back at the selfish men my knights had become.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I woke up feeling more refreshed than I had for many days. I smiled slightly at the lack of drowsiness, and went to roll over.

My hand caught on something, and I opened my eyes. I stared down the length of my arm, and finally at my hand. It was entwined elaborately with another's, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I'd know that scarred hand anywhere. I'd tried to prevent myself from doing just this to it yesterday.

Tristan was sleeping soundly on his back. His hair was still hanging in his face, and one piece by his nose floated up every time he breathed. I giggled nervously at the sight of it, but clamped my teeth down on my lip to stop myself from waking the man up. I detached each of my fingers as gently as possible so as not to disturb him.

My eyes darted to where I'd fallen asleep the night before. How had I gotten all the way over here? My eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the dagger that was sticking straight up out of the dirt. It couldn't have ended up that way on its own. Someone had to forcibly stick it that way. I looked back at Tristan, and my confusion increased. Had I really rolled this far in my sleep, just to grab his hand?

I shifted my weight so I could sit up further, and something pricked my finger, hard. I gasped, and pulled my hand back, staring at the small wound. A drop of blood pulsed from the cut, and I wiped it on my breeches angrily. I searched for the culprit, and saw my stitching needle. It was threaded, and was sitting next to the dagger I used for medical purposes, a spool of thread, what looked like used stitches, and some bloody bandages.

My eyes landed on Tristan's chest, and his bandages looked mysteriously new. I'd changed his bandages in my sleep? What the hell was I doing?

I looked up at Tristan's face, and his eyes were open, staring at me intently. I didn't look away, flinch, or scream like I wanted to. I just looked back. I wanted to ask him if he knew what had happened, but a part of me held back, positive that I didn't even want to know. I hoped he hadn't been awake when I'd grabbed his hand.

"Are you hungry?" I heard myself asking. I felt like I was hovering inches over my own head, watching myself talk to him. He nodded, and I walked over to the small sack I'd put the apples I'd found in. I pulled out two, handing one to him and sitting down with mine.

He took a rather loud bite from the green fruit, but I took my dagger and cut smaller pieces off, eating them slowly.

"Why do you do that?" he asked.

I looked down at him quizzically. He was propped up on one elbow, twirling his bitten apple in the opposite hand.

"Do what?"

"Cut it up."

I looked back down at the significantly smaller apple, missing the several pieces I'd cut from it. I shrugged.

"I do not know. I've always eaten them like this," I responded. It was half-true. I had always eaten them like that, but I did know the reason. My father used to use apples as surprise treats for me, as I was the only one of his children who liked them as much as he did. He would cut pieces off just like this; one for me and then one for him. Even if the last piece was supposed to go to him, he would give it to me. I felt a pang for moments like that with my family, and there was a sudden lump in my throat.

A hand infiltrated my field of vision, tugging my dagger from my grip. I watched him as he used the dagger to cut a smaller piece off his apple, and then ate it right off the blade. He made an approving sound.

"Less messy," he said decidedly. He'd commandeered my dagger, so I sighed, and walked over to the knife sticking out of the ground. I wrenched it out, and wiped it on my pants. I stayed there, leaning against the wall to finish my small meal.

When I was done, I observed Tristan. He was sitting up now, leaning against the wall behind him. His eyes were closed, but his fingers tapped repeatedly against his leg, letting me know that he was awake.

"What do the tattoos on your face mean?" I blurted. His eyes opened, but he didn't look straight at me. The fingers that had been tapping his thigh reached up, and brushed across them.

"Tribal," he grunted. "They are the markings of a warrior."

"So all of the soldiers in your tribe get those on their faces?" I asked. His mouth twitched, although I wasn't sure if it was in amusement or annoyance.

"No, each gets something different to symbolize their rank," he replied. "I am the only one with these."

I nodded slowly, mulling that over. "Why are you the only one with those?"

"I was the only one from my tribe forced to fight for Rome."

"Why only you?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" he shot back.

I glared. "If you want to sit there, and brood alone, then go ahead. I'll be outside."

I stood, and brushed off the back of my pants.

"No," he said before I could take one step towards the door. "You cannot ask questions without answering some."

I crossed my arms, standing rigidly. "Then ask some."

"Where is your family?" he asked. Leave it to him to get right to the one I didn't want to answer.

"Dead," I snapped. "Next question."

"When did they die?" I was surprised he asked 'when' not 'how'.

"Fourteen winters ago."

"You were young."

"Really? I did not notice," I spat sarcastically. His jaw tightened.

"How did you survive?" he asked quietly.

I laughed, although I'm not really sure why. There was no humor in it. "Dark magic," I replied sardonically. "I sacrificed small goats and baby rabbits to keep my health."

He was not amused by my joke, clearly. He snorted angrily, and twirled my blade in his hand absentmindedly. I supposed he was done talking, so I left, and he made no move to stop me.

Once I was out there, I retreated to the stables where Egryn greeted me enthusiastically. I walked in, and picked up his brush.

"You're looking a bit scruffy," I informed him jokingly. He neighed, throwing his mane a bit. I chuckled, and started to brush out his coarse black coat, getting the bits of hay, dead leaves, and twigs out of his white mane. When I was done, I turned to Tristan's horse. She stared back docilely. I approached her slowly, gently pressing my hand on her snout. She allowed me to stroke her, so I ran the brush over her neck, sidestepping so I could start to brush the rest of her.

"Your master is a bit of an ass," I informed her. She made no reply, so I continued. "There is something about him…it just makes me want to rip his head off. I liked him much better when he could not talk back."

She whinnied softly, and turned her head to nudge my shoulder. I smiled, and stroked her mane with one hand while continuing to brush her with the other.

"I still do not know your name," I told her. "I would ask Tristan if it didn't mean I wouldd have to answer another question of his."

I moved to her other side, and finished brushing her in silence. When I was done, I patted her side and Egryn's before quickly refilling their feed trough, and going back to the house. I would have to clean out their stall soon, but I didn't know how Tristan's horse would react to being let out. Egryn would just prance around like his normal happy self, chasing birds and rolling around in the piles of dead leaves. I didn't want her to run off. I doubted Tristan would appreciate that. I almost walked through the door when I stopped, my hand halfway towards grabbing the latch. I didn't want to go back in there. I wouldn't be able to escape explaining things to him if I did. And he gave me a strange feeling that was like my breath seemed to have to work harder to locate my lungs. He had clean bandages; he should be fine.

I took a step back and then another. I had other things I could do besides looking after him. Now that his fever was gone, there was no actual need for me to be with him constantly. I noticed my suffering garden from the corner of my eye, and decided I would keep myself busy, at least until absolutely necessary.

/\/\/\/\/\

Hours later I felt more accomplished than I had since Tristan came into my life. I'd tended to my garden, cleaned out the horses' stall (Tristan's mare only went where Egryn went, and I realized they'd formed some sort of trusting bond), taken Egryn to replenish my water supplies, been able to wash my hair, fed the horses, killed a pair of rabbits for dinner, and disposed of the ruined tunic in the fire I used to cook one of the best stews I'd made in a long time.

I'd finished eating my own, admittedly procrastinating going in the house. I knew he had to be hungry, but I just wasn't ready to face him yet. All day I'd been well able to pretend that everything was normal, and that there was no taciturn man lying in my bed. It was nice to pretend that my life had never changed, and forget those haunting eyes that pierced my soul whenever I met their gaze.

I shook my head, and put out the fire by kicking some dirt on it. I spooned the remainder of the stew into a bowl, and took a deep breath before walking into my home.

To my surprise, the oil lamp was on. Tristan was sitting in the bed with said lamp next to him. He'd taken a lump of firewood from the pile just next to the door and had begun to carve it into something. A pile of chunks and shavings of the wood lay next to him, and he didn't even look up at my entrance. I walked over, and held out his bowl wordlessly. He set down his carving and my knife, and took the bowl. He picked up the spoon, and ate.

I looked at the carving silently, trying to ascertain what it would be. It was only half finished at this point, and looked like nothing more than an elaborate hunk of splinters. He noticed me looking, but didn't comment.

"Is that what you did all day?" I asked, unable to quell my curiosity.

He cocked his head to the side, and watched me. The way he studied me reminded me of something, but I couldn't place my finger on what that was. There was a predatorial edge to it.

"Are you going to answer a question in return?" he finally asked.

"You will do nothing without repayment," I remarked bitterly. He smirked, the first semblance of a smile I'd seen from him.

"True."

I sighed, my aggravation growing, and gave in. "How about this: I ask one, you ask one. Does that seem fair to you?"

"Alright," he said, nodding slowly.

"Fine," I snapped.

"Yes," he said out of nowhere.

"What?"

"The answer to your question is yes," he repeated. "This is what I did all day."

"Oh," I said stupidly.

"My turn," he said, not even pausing. "Why were you there at the battle that day?"

"I was riding by, and I heard the noise," I responded flippantly. "It was merely an investigation."

"Your turn."

"Why were you fighting the Woads?" I asked curiously.

"There was a raid the day before, and one of the fallen was a Roman senator's son," he replied. "We came to retrieve his body, but they thought we came for another attack. Why were you taught to fight?"

"I don't understand the question," I admitted.

"Most women are not taught battle skills," he pointed out. "That's left to the men."

I scoffed. "As you so cleverly made apparent earlier, there are no men here. There is only me. I learned so I didn't have to play the damsel in distress all the time."

He smirked again, and that feeling in my stomach intensified. I quickly thought of another question to distract myself. "You are not Roman."

"That's isn't a question."

"If you are not Roman, then why do you fight for Rome?" I asked.

Suddenly he was glaring, but not at me. His eyes had landed on the ground somewhere in front of me like it was the cause for all his problems.

"My ancestors doomed me," he said darkly. "I am Sarmatian, the descendant of one of the cavalry who used to fight for their army. They were the best of the best, but they were defeated by Romans many years ago. In order to have their lives spared, they made a pact: they would fight as knights for Rome and their sons would after them. Fifteen years of service as payment. It was the same for my father and his father and his father, as it is for me."

"So…you are a slave," I said. It wasn't a question, just a statement of fact.

He scowled. "That is the general idea. I am a warrior; it is in my blood, but I do not want to be Rome's pawn. I fight for causes that are not my own, and kill men whom I have no quarrel with."

I could hear the bitterness in his voice, and felt a surge of sympathy for him. Suddenly I understood why he was always so angry and why he'd locked himself up so tightly emotionally. I could only imagine the amount of bad memories hidden behind that wall of indifference.

"How long do you have left?" I asked softly.

He sighed wearily, and I registered that it was the first sign of weakness he'd shown while conscious. "I will get my discharge papers in only a few months," he replied, and then looked up sharply. "I believe you asked two questions."

I smiled faintly, and said, "Then you may ask two."

"Why did you save my life?"

It was a simple question, but the answer was anything but. I'd thought on it, and could only sum it up to that gut feeling that had spurned me when his prognosis looked bleak. It was just some sort of chemical reaction I had to him.

I shrugged. "I guess it was the heat of the moment. You know, battle and all. I did not really think about it. I saw an injured man, and I reacted."

"You could have let me die afterwards," he pointed out.

"Like I said, I used a lot of thread on you. There was no need to waste it." He scoffed, and I grinned. "Next question."

"How did your family die?"

And there it was. The number one thing I did not want to face. I tensed so suddenly that my shoulder locked up and gave a sudden twinge of pain. I jerked it, and the popping sound practically echoed in the small space. It didn't go unnoticed by the observant man. I could see more questions forming in his mind even though his face was blank.

I stood, and trod over to him to grab the lit lamp next at his side. His eyes followed my movements closely, but I acted like he wasn't there. I took the lamp to the soft corner I used to sleep, and curled up there on my side with my back facing towards him.

"That is not something I am willing to share," I admitted. I blew out the lamp, enveloping the room in darkness punctuated only by the streams of moonlight filtering in from cracks in the foundation that I never had a chance to close. "Get some sleep, Tristan. It will aid your recovery."

I thought he would protest, but he did not. I heard him shifting his weight, presumably to lie down. I stared at the wall in front of me, holding back the tears and my weakness.

*+*Tristan*+*

She didn't remember anything from last night, that became obvious pretty quickly after I woke up. I figured it was some sort of sleepwalking incident, or maybe she was only half-awake, stuck between dreams and reality. I'd thought she was just ignoring the incident purposefully until I'd asked her that question. The emotion flicked across her face only fleetingly before she clamped down on it. She had a surprising amount of control on herself, and I knew she would not give that away willingly enough to cry in front of me like she had before. No, she'd not meant to do it.

Her breathing had calmed long ago, so I knew she was asleep. I thought over everything she'd told me today. It all only increased my suspicions of her. She was hiding things, and she wasn't going to just give them up easily. I'd noticed how she'd skirted around actually letting me know who trained her, and told me why she was trained instead. I recognized her fighting style: Woadish. Whoever trained her had been a Woad; I had no doubt. That increased my distrust of her.

I slid my arm down, my fingers ghosting over the blade that was there. She developed some level of trust for me, something I hadn't expected someone so cautious to do. It worked out well, however. The decision had formulated in my head the moment she'd allow me to take the dagger from her hand while we were eating the apples that morning. I was leaving now, and nothing would stop me. I only had a small amount of service left before I was free. If there was a fight and one of my brothers was killed, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself, knowing that I wasn't there. I was an indifferent individual, and I would be the first to admit that. But they were my brothers in arms, and the only people I'd had for nearly fifteen years. There wasn't a lot that could get between that.

I pushed the blanket away, and sat up. I shifted slowly, so as not to pull a stitch again. If I did this time, I wouldn't pause. I was going to walk straight on through the pain. I'd walked around with worse injuries before, so it could be done. I stood on shaky legs, and cursed myself silently. I should never be this weak. It drove me mad, not being able to do things that should have taken little to no effort. I went to my belongings, pulling on my boots, tunic, and armor with only a slight bit of difficulty. I carried my sword and scabbard in my hand instead of strapping it to my back.

I walked slowly to the door, and unlocked the redundant amount of locks she had on it. I don't know who she expected to come break down her door, and it added up to another reason to be suspicious.

I looked around outside, taking in the scenery for the first time. The trees were rather thick surrounding the circular clearing that the small house sat in. I could hear the distant sounds of a stream, which solved the mystery of how she always seemed to have water. The stars were plentiful here, and I used them to pinpoint my location. If I kept heading North, I would hit Hadrian's Wall. I heard a horse whinny softly, and followed the sound.

The horses were at the back of the house, in a small stall that was probably only built for her horse. The stallion neighed at the sight of me, and came forward for me to pet him. Isolde shouldered him out of her way in her attempt to get to me, snorting impatiently. I pet her snout, and she nipped my shoulder gently in affectionate greeting.

I unlatched the door, and stepped inside. I found Isolde's saddle resting on a platform next to the one for Aderyn's horse. I picked it up, and had to bite my tongue hard not to yell in pain from the ache that ran all the way through my torso. I quickly put it on her, and leaned against her flank for support. I took a deep breath, and began to fasten everything quickly. I buckled my sword to the saddle, and prepared to put on her bridle.

She went from genial to serious when she was being primed for travel, as she always did. She was intelligent, and knew when it was time to stop playing. Unlike Aderyn's horse, who had been whinnying happily, trying to get my attention since I'd stepped foot in here.

I faced the saddle, getting ready to mount Isolde.

"You will die."

I whirled around fast, the dagger I'd taken clenched in my hand. Aderyn stood there, inside the stall with me. I marveled at how she'd been able to get in without a sound. It wasn't often that people were able to sneak up on me, and it was all the worse because she'd done it more than once.

"I won't," I protested. Her eyes narrowed, and I was reminded of angels again. She almost glowed in the moonlight. There was a smudge of dirt on her temple from sleeping on the ground, and I itched to wipe it away, just so I could touch her.

"You will," she insisted. "You are letting your ridiculous male pride get in the way of recovery. Tell me, what is it like to be so unfamiliar with the concept of freedom that you go running back to your captors willingly?"

I'd taken two big steps forward, and jammed the sharp edge of her own dagger against her throat. Shock flitted across her face before it went back to the inscrutable mask of before. I felt an undeniable satisfaction at getting a glimpse behind that iron wall she held up, even if it was only for a second.

"Do _not_ pretend to know me," I growled. I hadn't been this close to her since the battlefield, when I'd had her pinned against the tree. I could have easily killed her, but I'd held back for some reason, just as I was now.

"I never pretend," she responded calmly. Her eyes stayed firmly locked with mine, all emotion voided out.

"Go back to your bed right now, or I'll slit your throat," I threatened. "Those are your options: go home or die."

Her eyes blazed like an unexpected wildfire, and suddenly the wall came crashing down faster than a body with its head cut off. Her hand closed over mine on the hilt of the dagger, she took a step closer to me so that there were only centimeters between our bodies, and bared her teeth as she stared up at my eyes unyieldingly.

"Do it," she said evenly, she pulled my hand forward so that the blade was pressed roughly into the skin of her throat.

I just continued to look at her, completely uncertain now. I hadn't expected her to do this. I knew she'd fight my departure, but I didn't think she'd do this.

"Kill me," she practically purred. "It would be easy, I am sure of it. If you even moved the slightest bit right now, you would end my life, as you have so many others."

She was right. If I shifted the blade in either direction, the floodgates would open. It would be fatal, considering she was out here with no help. Her eyes continued to burn at me, daring me to murder the one who'd saved my life.

I pulled the knife away from her throat, and she let go of my hand instantly. She smirked, but her eyes were cruel.

"Coward," she whispered breathily.

I snapped, grabbing her throat and slamming her back into the stable wall. Her horse neighed loudly in protest, but I ignored it. Her walls were back up, and her emotions were as mysterious as ever. My hand fit perfectly around her slender neck, giving me much more leverage.

"Do not mistake mercy as cowardice," I growled. I got closer to her, pressed up against her even closer than we'd been a moment ago. "You are the coward here, Aderyn."

I'd never said her name out loud before, and it tasted unfamiliar, yet sweet in my mouth.

"How do you figure that?" she gasped, trying to catch the breath I was stealing from her. I felt a familiar thrill at holding a life in the palm of my hand, literally this time. My eyebrows furrowed confusedly at the feeling of her pulse beneath my hand. It was slow, calm. She wasn't afraid.

"You have hidden yourself in this forest like a hermit in order to escape whatever it is that has happened to you," I replied. Her face fell, and suddenly she was just a scared little girl, alone in the world.

I let go of her neck instantly, and she sucked in a loud breath. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the ground with her knees pulled against her chest. She looked lost, something I'd never seen in her perpetually assured facade. She always seemed to know exactly what she was doing. I thought I wanted to get through her defenses, but I didn't like seeing this, not at all. It was like I was intruding on something private. I wanted to get an uncontrolled reaction from her, but I didn't want to see this agony. I wanted anger, not desolation.

"You are more perceptive than you act," she said quietly. I blinked, and she was standing. I hadn't expected the quick movement, but suddenly she was opening the stable door to go. "I will not stop you from leaving. I would prefer you stayed until fully recovered, but it is your choice, Tristan. What could I even do to stop you? After all…I am just a scared little hermit."

She strode away, back towards the front of the house. She left me there, feeling more confused than I had in any moment of my life.

**I prefer intensity to whimsy. This was easier to write. For once in my life, I'm trying to write something with a happier ending, but it feels weird. I'm so much better at bad feelings. :\**

**Anyway, let me know in your review what you want me to do: write this and the sequel and put up the other Tristan story, write this without a sequel and the other Tristan story, or this and its sequel but not the other Tristan story. The other one is more of my usual stuff: angst, trauma, and bad stuff.**

**Anyway, four reviews? Is that cool? :) Please and thank you, guys! Love vibes to you all. (:**


	10. No Longer Lost

**I finally own the King Arthur DVD. I had no idea what I was going to do for the sequel when it follows the timeline of the movie, so I was in mild panic mode about dialogue issues. It's okay now though. It will all go as planned. ;D And I've decided to post all of this and the sequel. I'm probably going to post the other story soon too, so you'll be getting plenty of me (whether you like it or not (; ).**

**My mom is talking to her candles. She wonders why I'm so weird. She needs a mirror, obviously.**

**Read on, dears!**

_"I never know where you like to go when you're alone, and why you can't be reached. Does anybody know? Breaking up again. Are you listening to anything I've said? Tell me where you are, and I'll find you. Tell me what it takes to see this through. Tell me what it takes to get to you, and I'll be there, waiting."-Hit the Lights_

*+*Aderyn*+*

When I woke up, I was on my stomach in my usual patch of dirt, facing towards the cottage wall with an undeniable sense of annoyance brewing in my gut. I couldn't figure out why I felt so angry. I thought hard on it, and then the memories of last night all came flooding back so fast that I felt instantaneously furious.

Tristan had threatened me, and gone so far as to hold a dagger to my throat. My fingers curled into tight fists at the very thought. He acted like I had nerve for wanting him not to kill himself! Bastard!

I uttered a long string of unladylike Woad curses as I lifted myself, popping my shoulder obnoxiously as I did so. I groaned, and glanced at the long beam of yellow sunlight streaming under the door. Maybe it would be warm today. I could take Egryn out, and-

My thoughts died in my head, and I let out a loud scream when I saw someone staring at me from my own bed. I scrambled backwards, slamming my head into the wall and cutting my leg as I yanked my dagger out of my boot. I pointed it at the intruder, breathing heavily. Their face was shrouded in shadow, as was most of them because of the dim light in the room, but I would have recognized that tangled mass of dark hair anywhere.

"Tristan?" I gasped. He didn't respond, confirming my suspicions. "Gods, you scared me, I…"

My eyes narrowed at him as I reminded myself of what I'd been thinking about before I noticed him. He'd defied me, threatened me, and yet he was still here. I thought he would have been heading back to where he came from now or at least been dead on his horse somewhere. He was leaning casually against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. He was facing towards me, but I couldn't tell if he was looking at me or not because of the dark. I scrabbled forward, grabbing the oil lamp and a flint to light it. The wick ignited, flooding the room with warm orange light. Turns out that he wasn't looking at me, he was staring at something in his hands.

"Why didn't you leave?" I asked, kneeling next to the lamp.

I was determined to wait for him to answer, but he didn't seem very talkative, as usual. So I sat on the ground, and fixed him with a penetrating stare. It could have been minutes or hours that I waited, but eventually my knees started to go numb. I didn't want to give in first, but my stomach was growling viciously, demanding I eat. I stirred, getting ready to go outside.

"I did." I froze, turning back to the man before me. He was still staring at something he had clenched in his left fist.

"You did?" I asked.

"Got about a hundred yards away," he grumbled.

"Why didn't you keep going?"

He sighed loudly, like he was annoyed and wanted me to know it. His eyes finally met mine.

"Hurt," he grunted, looking back down. I knew how much that must have taken him, being able to admit that something was too much for him to take. He was obviously very proud, and I could appreciate that he hadn't lied. I stood and grabbed my saddle bag, procuring the last apple I'd harvested. I chopped it in right down the middle, and held out half to him. His fingertips touched mine when he took it, and something sparked in me when his calloused skin came in contact with mine. I kept my face carefully blank, looking for his reaction. His eyes only met mine for a brief second before he pulled my dagger from the side of his breeches and cut a piece off of the apple. I guess he hadn't felt it.

I blew out the oil lamp, and threw open the door instead, letting the light in. I took a bite from my half of the apple as I walked around back. His horse was in the stable with Egryn, and she was lapping up water from the trough. Her saddle and bridle had been removed, surprisingly. I pondered how he managed to remove the heavy leather saddle if he was in so much pain. I shrugged it off, deciding that it was probably another of his ridiculous masculine things again.

Egryn trotted up to me, and whinnied softly, giving me doe eyes. I sighed, and handed what was left of my apple half to him. He chomped it up, and then went back to his corner.

"Glutton," I muttered, turning back around. I heard a bird cry, and froze. Drenna?

The cry sounded again, and I relaxed. It was much too high-pitched. I searched the skies for the source, and saw a relatively familiar pair of eyes glaring down at me. It was the same hawk from the other day, looking at me accusingly. I scowled back.

"I have to wonder why you hate me," I told it. It ruffled its feathers. "Don't lie to me, bird. I know you want to peck my eyes out. I can sense it."

It ignored me and flew away. I huffed.

"It's rude to fly away when you are having an argument!" I yelled after it.

I went back inside, and saw Tristan trying to stand up. I rushed over, pulling on his bicep to assist him.

"What?" he asked sardonically. "No berating from you today?"

I scoffed. "Sorry to disappoint, but it really is time you started getting back on your feet."

His lip twitched, and I could have sworn it was sort of a smile. I found myself smiling, despite my uncertainty. I was tucked beneath his arm, using my shoulder to keep him up. It struck me just how small I was compared to him. My head only came up to his shoulder, and he was so broad that I could stand behind him and completely disappear. He started to topple forward, and I put my hand on his chest to steady him.

"Easy," I said, using the same tone I used when I talked to Egryn. He ignored me, and grabbed my hand from his chest. He started to pull it towards his face, and my breath got stuck in my throat. For a moment, it was like he might kiss it…

But he didn't. He was examining it instead. "What happened to your wrist?" he asked.

I only just realized he was holding my gimpy arm, and I pulled it out of his grip and slipped out from under his arm. He swayed a little, but managed to remain standing by himself. "It broke," I answered.

"Didn't feel broken," he remarked.

"It isn't. It broke a long time ago."

"You never had it mended?" There was an accusation hidden none too well in his words.

"I did," I replied defensively. "It was just too late. It had already begun to heal itself."

He was looking at my arm strangely now, and I was suspicious he could see the odd angle my shoulder sat at too. I turned away, picking up my sheathed sword to buckle around my waist.

"Who were you talking too?" he questioned suspiciously.

"When?" I asked.

"When you were outside. I heard you yelling."

"Oh. There is a bird out there that seems to find me to be an issue. It keeps squawking at me."

"Really?" He sounded so amused that I turned to look at him. One side of his lips was quirked up.

"Yes." I answered, phrasing it like a question. He shook his head, the same subtle smirk still showing. I stared at it, mesmerized. His cheekbones were less prominent when he smiled, making him seem more approachable (but for Tristan, that was still much less approachable than most people). He was even more attractive this way.

My cheeks flamed, and I whipped around so my back was to him. Did I really just think that? What did I mean "more attractive"? He wasn't attractive in the first place. He was…irritating. Yes. I turned back around when my blush receded, and he was leaning against the wall contently.

"Why are you standing up?"

"Because I am sick of lying down."

"Fair enough," I muttered. He shook his head, trying to get some of the longer sections of hair out of his eyes. All he succeeded in doing was making himself look more wild.

I snorted in amusement, and stepped towards him. "You look like a fool. Let me fix it."

He tensed and pushed himself back into the wall like he was trying to shove himself through it, but didn't move when I reached for his hair. I grabbed the longest pieces, separated them, and then plaited them with nimble fingers. I reached down to my boot, and yanked the excess shoelace off, using it to secure the plait at the bottom. I did this a few more times until he had several of them all over his head. He shook his head vigorously, like when Egryn was trying to dry himself. When only a minimal amount was in his eyes, he seemed satisfied. He nodded in thanks.

I admired the effect of the plaits out of the corner of my eye. I could see more of this face this way, even though his eyes remained evasive. Pieces still fell into his eyes, but I knew he preferred it that way.

No matter what he said about me, I wasn't the one in this room who wanted to hide.

*+*Tristan*+*

She left without a word, but I was used to that by now. I could sense her hesitance to get close to me, reminding me of my hawk when I first came across her with a broken wing. She'd been very wary of me, but knew she needed my help. Her survival instinct was the only thing keeping her from trying to escape me. Was it the same with this skittish girl? What could she need me for that forced her to allow my proximity?

I started to feel weary on my feet, my head swimming uncomfortably. I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the dirt floor, a few feet from the bed. I felt a ridiculous satisfaction that I was no longer on that bed. I was restless now, and the thing seemed truly accursed.

I listened to the sounds emanating from the doorway, and relaxed. I could only really be calm if I didn't feel trapped, and this cottage felt like a prison. It wasn't the building imprisoning me though; it was my body. This damned injury was turning me into an invalid. I sneered at the thought. I hadn't even ridden far enough to be out of sight of this clearing when I knew I couldn't do it. I wasn't used to such pathetic limitations, and I'd gone to sleep beyond angry. I felt the sting of it now: embarrassment combined with frustration.

Aderyn stomped back into the room with her usual lack of ladylike grace, and flopped down on the ground. She didn't spare me a glance as she started to sort through a basket full of plants she'd brought with her. A blush crept up her face without warning, and her eyes darted to me and back to her work. I smirked, realizing I was having an effect on her.

"Stop staring at me," she snapped, tucking her chin even closer to her body. My smirk dropped, and my eyes narrowed.

Women. No, not just women; everyone. The only bearable people in the world were my fellow Sarmatian knights, and our commander. Vanora fell into that category sometimes as well. But this woman right here was insufferable. All she ever did was complain and order people around, and that included inanimate objects. She even yelled at my hawk to come back to her because she was arguing with it. She was an infuriating little wench, and she'd clearly lost her mind.

I closed my eyes, and immediately opened them back up when an image of this very same girl exploded behind my eyelids. It wasn't the her of today though, it was her the night she'd fixed my stitches and cried while she held my hand. She was vulnerable then, just like my hawk had been when her wing was broken. I'd seen the side of her that was hidden behind the snappy retorts and unpleasant demeanor.

Despite myself, I craved to see that again. I wanted her to break down, even if it made her cry. I'd seen behind the wall. It was like an alcoholic's first sip of wine. I'd gotten a taste, and now I needed more. I'd never experienced anything like this yearning before, and it irked me. But I would see it through.

The cry of a hawk reached us in the cabin, but I knew immediately that it wasn't my hawk. To my surprise, Aderyn stood up so fast that I barely caught the movement, and was staring outside like she was watching her own death approaching her.

*+*Aderyn*+*

"Listen to me," I said hastily from the corner of my mouth, collecting my basket in the pretense of cleaning it up. I knew she would be watching me through the doorway, so I was moving as fast as I could. "No matter what happens, do not come outside. Stay completely silent. Do not move."

Tristan's eyes were narrowed to slits, and he looked extremely suspicious. "Why?"

"I promise you I will explain when I return, but please, _please _just listen to me this once, Tristan," I pleaded, trying to hide the note of hysteria in my voice.

"If I do not get an explanation, it will not end well for you," he said finally. I ignored the threat, and dashed outside, slamming the door behind me. I returned her call with my owl sound, but it sounded like said owl was being throttled.

Drenna emerged from between the trees, seeming to appear out of thin air. One of her eyebrows was arched.

"What took so long?" she asked. "I saw you trying to pick something up inside."

I laughed airily. "Yes, I was sorting herbs. It was messy," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. It wasn't working.

Drenna had been coming by less frequently since Tristan's men had been here, and I'd had so much on my mind that I hadn't spared much thought on her recently. I'd relaxed too much, and I was paying the price. If she decided I was acting too strange, she would walk right in and see the man I had hidden in my home. I didn't even want to think of her reaction. I forced myself to calm, slowing my breathing. My shoulder suddenly locked from my high stress level, and I jerked it quickly.

Drenna was eying me speculatively, and I waited, fighting desperately against the flood of confessions bursting to get through my lips. Her stern motherly look was slowly making me crumble.

"Well," she finally said, dropping her shifty eyes and donning a smile instead, "I came by to see if you wanted to spar a bit. I haven't been able to test your skills in a long time."

"Actually, Drenna, I'm not feeling too well," I blurted. To make up for the quickness with which I said it, I grimaced appropriately.

"Really?" she asked flatly. I nodded. "Yr oeddech yn dirwy funud yn ôl."

"Oh, I, uh…didn't want to worry you. But I'm definitely not well enough for dueling right now. Mae'n ddrwg gennyf, Drenna."

She stared at me, and I stared back, keeping my grimace in place. There was a loose thread from my tunic tickling my arm and I desperately wanted to tug at it, but I always tended to fidget when I was lying. Drenna was well aware of that.

Her jaw tightened, and she held out one hand towards me. "Hand," she demanded.

My eyes widened, and I started to shake my head. "Drenna, that isn't necessary, I-"

"Awr!" she snapped. My shoulders sagged with defeat, and I slipped my hand into hers. She tugged me to the log I used as a seat by the fire, and pushed me down onto it. Once she was seated next to me, she turned my palm up, and started to stare at my hand intently.

Most people thought Merlin and all of his family were dark magicians, but that wasn't true. Their use of herbs and certain concoctions for healing were viewed as dangerous potions or poisons, and their praying to their gods was viewed as spell work. It was all high superstition that really meant nothing. They did, however, possess an acute foresight. I had not believed in it until Drenna had started to do this every time she suspected I was lying. She would study my palm, and suddenly would be able to see right through me and find out what really happened. I waited in anticipation as she stretched my calloused skin taught across the bones in my hand, looking for things that I would never see.

She started to mutter under her breath, but I couldn't understand what she was saying. She cocked her head to the left, and pulled my palm into a beam of sunlight, her eyes only inches from it.

Suddenly she yelped like she'd been burned, and threw my hand away from her, exclaiming, "Eich tynged wedi newid!"

"What?" I asked, bemused. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her mouth was twisted into an aghast frown. She clutched both of her hands over her heart.

"Oh, my sweet girl," she gasped, "your entire future has shifted to a new path! I have never seen such a drastic change in such a short time."

"I don't understand," I admitted.

She lunged forward and grasped both of my hands tightly in her own, and her sad gaze met my befuddled one. "Your love for him will change everything," she whispered.

"My love for who?" I asked. Every time she answered one of my questions, ten more popped up in their place.

"I do not know," she replied, "but you will. He is not from here, but from a distant land he feels no allegiance to." Her eyes glazed over, and even though she was looking at me I knew she didn't see me, only what was in her mind's eye. "He is haunted, as you are, by his past. The only person who can heal your scars is he. Your fates are the most tightly intertwined that I have ever seen."

"I do not know who you are talking about!" I exclaimed, my frustration getting the best of me. "What man is there in this damned forest?"

Her eyes focused back on me, and she smiled without it reaching her eyes. I knew this was serious when she didn't reprimand me for cursing. "There will be, Aderyn. He will love you more deeply than even you will be able to comprehend, and you will feel the same. But beware, little one: he will break your heart."

*+*Arthur*+*

Once again I found myself traipsing across the land I'd come to detest, searching for a man who seemed to not want to be found. Tristan had a way of remaining hidden, but always making his presence known at the same time. This was so unusual that he would just disappear for over two weeks now. He would not have done so willingly. Something was amiss.

The men had become more and more discontented with being here. This was quite possibly our last mission for the empire, and it was driving them crazy that it was so pointless. They wanted to return to the fort, tell the senator his son was dead, drown their sorrow in drink, and wait for their discharge papers. I didn't blame them. They'd fought hard all these years, but still, I had never failed to bury any of my men in our cemetery on Badon Hill, and I wasn't about to start with Tristan.

I'd left them to their devices today, choosing to search on my own. I was doing anything to placate them in order to keep the peace. I hadn't ever detected such a level of mutiny with them before. I knew it was because they were distraught over losing one of our own so soon before being dispatched. Bors talked often of Vanora and his troupe of bastard children, a testament to his homesickness.

I stopped walking, and sighed stressfully, running my hand over my face. This was too much for me. Tristan was missing, and my men were desperate to go home. Two choices: leave or stay. They were conflicting, but I couldn't please both parties for much longer. It was all up to me.

My thoughts were broken by the sound of light footsteps. If there had been any other sound echoing around me, I would have missed them. Drenna appeared through the trees, seemingly not noticing me. She was approaching the embankment we'd been forbidden from. She jumped over it, and landed on the other side, disappearing within the cover of the trees soon after.

What was down there that she wanted us not to see? I immediately pushed it from my head. I already had too much on my mind, and I didn't need to add a forbidden stretch of trees to that list. I rolled my shoulders, and then trudged onward.

**Yr oeddech yn dirwy funud yn ôl**:** You were fine a minute ago**

**Mae'n ddrwg gennyf, Drenna****: Sorry, Drenna**

**Awr:**** Now**

**Eich tynged wedi newid****: Your destiny has changed**

**My final edit of this took me three hours because my aunt, her boyfriend, and my mom have been blabbing around me while I'm trying to concentrate. I can't edit in these conditions!**

**Anyway, four reviews, please and thank you. :D**

**Love to you all!**


	11. No Longer the Same

**Hello, lovelies. ;)**

**So I don't really have much to say. :P Thanks for the reviews! They make my day, and I honestly love hearing from everyone. :) I wish I could reply to everyone, but that would take up a lot of reading room on this, haha.**

**But anyway, I thank each and every person who takes the time to read this. All a writer can ask for is people to read their work, and you all make that possible for me. :D**

_"You frequent the safest place to hide. Long nights filled with your most obvious weakness. You start shaking at the thought. You are everything I want 'cause you are everything I'm not. And we lay, we lay together, just not too close, too close. How close is close enough? We lay, we lay together, just not too close, too close. I just wanna break you down so badly. While I trip over everything you say, I just wanna break you down so badly, in the worst way."-Taking Back Sunday_

*+*Aderyn*+*

When I walked back in the house, Tristan was glaring at me with a ferocity I hadn't expected.

"Who the hell was that?" he snapped.

My thoughts were already weighed down with everything Drenna just told me, so his anger caught me off guard. "That was a friend of mine."

"It sounded like a Woad," he growled. I sighed, sitting down heavily in front of him.

"She is a Woad," I said quietly. His eyes widened, and I added, "Her name is Drenna, and she raised me."

"You were not only raised by Woads," he said furiously, "the people that have killed off nearly all of the men I've ever fought with, but you were raised by one of their most powerful leaders. Is that right?"

I scowled. "You make it sound so much worse when you put it that way."

"I am not making it sound worse!" he spat. "It is as bad as it sounds!"

"You act like you are innocent in all of this!" I responded heatedly. "You have killed Woads! You make them sound like murdering machines with no other thought beside blood-spilling."

"That _is _what they are!" he shouted back.

I was on my feet in an instant. "I was raised by Drenna, as you so relished in pointing out! She is the military leader as well, as you probably know, and her strategy has never been to just kill as many as possible! They fight with reason, to take back the land from your precious Rome!"

"I have no allegiance to Rome! Get your facts straight before you point fingers! Although I would swear my fealty to them before I would ever surrender to the Woads. They are savages!"

"Then what are you?" I shrieked, my voice getting higher pitched the angrier I got. "You have no loyalty to Rome, yet you kill people for them! Drenna has a bigger heart than you could ever comprehend! She saved my life when my family died, and she taught me everything I know! When she found me I was half-dead! I would have wasted away if it weren't for her! She had no reason or ulterior motives for saving me, but she did! Do not speak to me of savages, Tristan, when you know naught of what you say!"

It became incredibly silent. The wind seemed to halt, as if it too was waiting for his response. My chest was heaving, and angry tears had pooled at the bottoms of my eyes. He was studying me, the rage in his eyes had receded somewhat, but his sneer remained. He continued to keep his lips sealed, so I spoke instead.

"It does not matter anyway," I said quietly. I folded my legs beneath me, and returned to the ground.

"Why not?" he questioned.

"Because we will never see eye to eye," I pointed out. "There is no way to win a fight of opinion. For years I have watched the woman I think of as a mother become distraught over your people killing hers, and you have seen Drenna's people killing the ones close to you. We will both always hold onto our resentment. The only resolve I see is to simply keep our opinions to ourselves for the rest of the time you are here. Deal?"

I held out my hand to him, waiting for him to shake it. He regarded me curiously, like he thought I may be joking. I stared back seriously, waiting for him to take my hand. He finally did, shaking it quickly. His hands were shockingly warm and even more calloused than mine, and my hand was practically swallowed in his much larger one.

"Deal," he responded gruffly, taking his hand back. I smiled.

"Good."

"I'm going to guess that she does not know I am in here," he said.

"No, and it will stay that way," I replied. "She would string me up on a tree out there if she knew I had you smuggled in here."

One side of his lips quirked up. "Are you sure I'm not the one she would string up?"

"We would probably end up swinging from the same branch," I responded casually. He chuckled, and my stomach flipped strangely. It was deep and almost coarse, but the sound of it was oddly intimate.

"Why don't you laugh more?" I blurted, blushing instantly after it was said. I hadn't meant to actually ask him.

He leaned his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes. "When you have seen as much carnage as I have seen, you will find that there are few reasons left to laugh."

His tone was calm but his words sounded tortured, and I wondered what vile images danced beneath his eyelids as he said it. It was true that he had seen much more than me, as he was a soldier, but I was jealous of that, not wary. I wanted to see more than just the four walls of my cottage and the dead leaves and trees of my forest.

"Have you ever seen the ocean?" I asked him.

His eyes opened, and he nodded. "I lived near the Black Sea."

I couldn't help but feel like a starry-eyed child as I gaped at him. "What is it like?"

He considered his answer carefully. "Wild."

I found the thread I'd noticed on my tunic earlier, and started to tug at it. "I would like to see the ocean. Drenna said it was beautiful, but I know she will never take me. She fears for me too much."

"The sea is far from here," he replied.

"I know, but I am determined," I said firmly. "I will see it before I die."

When I looked up he had moved his head slightly so that the remnants of his unbraided hair concealed his eyes. I considered him silently, but I couldn't tell if he was looking back. I got my answer soon enough.

"You have a habit of staring," he said lowly.

I flushed. "No, I don't. You just do not say what you are thinking, so I try to guess."

"So what am I thinking now?" he asked mockingly.

I cocked my head to the side, and smiled slightly. "I believe you are thinking you cannot wait to leave here so that you can stop talking so often and go back to brooding constantly."

He shook his head. "Wrong."

I shrugged. "Just a guess. What were you thinking then?"

"Just…trying to tie up loose ends."

"Meaning?"

"This a good-sized house, yet you have boarded up three extra rooms. You say your family is dead, but you never speak of them unless asked. You don't like to be stared at. You scream in your sleep, and hate crying. I am just wondering what happened to you that caused all of this," he said simply. My face flushed furiously at his correct observations of me, and I looked at the floor.

"You can wonder all you want," I said after a long pause. "But you will ever know."

I turned to go, but he spoke just before I left. "I doubt that is the truth," he said so quietly that I barely caught it. I didn't stop or give any indication that I heard. Instead I walked right out, running from my problems, which was what I had always done best.

/\/\/\/\/\

For the rest of that day we didn't talk to each other. He stayed in that same spot mostly, and I noticed that he'd taken out that lump of wood he'd been whittling the other day, and continued to do so. He still had my favorite dagger, but I didn't ask for it back. Whenever I would walk back in, he would only glance up to acknowledge my presence. I was okay with that.

With him seeming content to just sit there for the moment, I was able to go back to a semblance of my old routine. I finished sorting herbs, uprooted the weeds in my garden, sharpened my sword, cleaned the horse stall, and set up traps for rabbits. I felt rather accomplished, and went to sleep that night feeling less stressed than I had in awhile.

My dreams were even worse than usual. It started the same, with me being dangled over the heads of my family by the leader of their murderers, but when he dropped me I landed in the clearing in front of my cottage instead. Drenna approached, her eye sockets empty and black.

She repeated to me the fortune she had seen in my palm, but only in the Woad language this time. I backed away, finally running into something solid that had hands that clamped around my arms. I whirled around to attack my captor, only to stop, gasping. The normal gray fog that shrouded my dreams lifted, and sunlight was suddenly pouring in heavily through the cover of trees. The sense of dreaded terror I felt was gone instantly, and I stared into a pair of the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. They were nearly gold in color, and shimmered at me enticingly.

Tristan was smiling at me like he never had before, and I reached up and moved one of the plaits from his face. He leaned forward, and my eyes closed an instant before his lips touched mine.

The vision vanished the second he kissed me, but I didn't wake right up like I normally did. Instead I came into awareness slowly, my eyes staying closed. I wasn't sweaty or afraid like I normally was when I woke up. I felt almost relieved, and a little confused. My arms reached out blindly, trying to find Tristan, whom I knew would be right next to me. When my hands touched nothing but air, my eyes opened.

I was lying on the ground, not in my comfortable bed. I blinked rapidly, sitting up. Very weak sunlight was filtering beneath the door, so it must have been dawn. I could just see the top of Tristan's head but that was all I needed to come crashing back down from cloud nine.

I dreamt I kissed him! Even worse: I'd enjoyed it, and woken up thinking he should have been lying next to me! I recoiled into myself, pulling my knees up to my chest for protection. The rabbit I ate last night must have had rabies. That was the only explanation for these insane dreams.

Yet I could not deny that that dream was much better than the norm. Just his presence had chased away the fog and the darkness, and he'd seemed so much friendlier in the dream.

I stood up, and tiptoed over to him. I stared at his face while he slept. He was undeniably attractive. I'd never seen a man so…beautiful. It was the only adjective that could possibly describe his level of appeal. He was not "handsome" and he certainly wasn't "cute" or "pretty". He was beautiful in a way that I knew only he could be. When I was starting to give into the urge to touch his face, I walked out of the room. Attachment could never end well. He would leave soon, and I would stay here. That was the end of it.

I hated how upset that made me.

*+*Arthur*+*

I didn't tell the men about seeing Drenna go to the place she'd forbid us from. I knew it would only cause problems, and I was trying to avoid that at all costs as of right now. Unfortunately, the lack of argument could not stop the awkward silence that drifted over our camp like the plague.

We all sat around the fire Lancelot had started, silently eating the small portions of food we'd all been given. Galahad had been hunting again, but his face was sour when he got back. Normally Tristan did the hunting. The youngest knight obviously didn't want to. I wanted to scream at them. They said Tristan was dead, but when they were forced to pick up the slack, they complained. My nerves were fraying thinner and thinner by the day.

"What do you think he would have done?" Bors said suddenly. All heads turned to him.

"What are you blabbering about?" Lancelot asked rudely.

"Tristan," he said. I tensed up. "Do you think he planned to go back to Sarmatia with the rest of us?"

"I don't know," Gawain replied. "No one does except him. He was never the type of man to waste breath speaking."

"I think he meant to," Galahad said suddenly. "When I went to his room to see if he was ready to leave, most of his stuff was packed."

"His stuff was always like that," Dagonet added quietly. "He was always prepared to leave."

The quiet fell again, but I greeted it with open arms this time. I wasn't ready to deal with this yet, talking about him like he only had a place in our pasts. He was _alive_.

"Do you remember when he beheaded those three men with one swing?" Lancelot suddenly asked, smiling at the memory. "He didn't even blink at it, just kept going."

Dagonet nodded fondly. "He was a great fighter…probably the best of us."

"I wouldn't even know how to use a bow if it were not for him," Galahad stated. "Remember how bad I was? He taught me almost all I know about archery."

"Vanora liked him," Bors said with a tone of finality, as if Vanora's approval was what made him a good person.

"Doesn't matter now," Gawain said, interrupting their pleasant reminiscence. "He is dead now."

"You do not know that," I said instantly. The awkwardness was back with a new vitality, and Gawain was glaring at me.

"Why are you so adamant about this, Arthur?" he sighed. "Even if he did survive battle, he would have died without resources by now."

"I just know," I spat, hackles raising. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, and glared into the bright orange flames.

"Do you know what I think?" the blond knight continued heatedly. "I think he is alive too."

The men's expressions morphed to various levels of surprise, and they all stared at Gawain, who didn't seem to notice. He only stared at me, gauging my reaction.

"Is that so?" I said slowly.

He nodded once. "Yes," he said, tone clipped with irritation. "But not for much longer. Haven't you wondered why that Woad woman will not let us into that little glade?"

I could feel everyone exchanging glances around me, but I kept my eyes firmly on Gawain. "What are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that he is captured down there," he replied evenly. "I think they have had him all along, making fools of us while we tramp through the foliage yelling like buffoons. I don't know what they want from him; maybe military strategy or weak points in our defenses. But I think he's being held prisoner. We all know Tristan. There is no other excuse for the disappearance of not only him, but his horse and weapons too. There haven't even been any damn tracks!"

He stood suddenly, letting the emotions he'd trapped go free. He dropped his bowl and spoon with a loud clatter, and glared at me through tight blue eyes.

"I say we forget the treaty. I want to know what is in that precious forbidden area of theirs."

**There is a reason why I'm making Gawain the asshole rebel in this. You know how, in the movie, when they're in the tavern after they found out they have one more mission, and Arthur says, "And you, Gawain?" Well, his glare made me think that there was something behind it. He wasn't nearly as angry with it when he asked the other knights. So I put meaning behind it: Arthur was daring Gawain to defy him again, like he did when they were looking for Tristan in my little fic. ;)**

**I hope that's a good enough reason to make Gawain so douchey.**

**Five reviews, beautiful people? :3 Pretty please and many thanks! Hope all of your weeks started off well, and continue to be so!**


	12. I Can See You Starting to Break

**I just wanted to post this really fast while I have time. This will probably be my last update for awhile because there's a lot going on right now. I'm really sorry, but there's just a lot going on in my life right now.** **So because of this delay...I've decided to post the first chapter of my other Tristan story! WOOO, REJOICE! So yeah, feel free to check it out. ;) It's called "Slowly Searching".**

**But thanks for reading and reviewing everyone, and I hope you'll stick with me until I have more writing time! :P**

_"I love it the more I suffer. I suffocate, and right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me. She fucking hates me, and I love it."-Eminem_

*+*Arthur*+*

Never before had I been forced to go to such lengths to keep the men from rebellion. In all of our years we'd never had a point like this where they questioned my every move with such resilience, not even in their stubborn teenage years. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and even I was starting to believe that I'd actually failed them as they thought I had. Maybe I really had let Tristan down. Perhaps it was true that he was dead and gone from this life.

I shoved those negative thoughts forcefully from my head as I tread closer to Drenna's camp. This was yet another of my attempts at keeping my men's wishes satisfied. I was going to confront Drenna, ask for answers about that place that had my men so riled up. If I didn't come back with enough answers to satiate them, it would mean a possibly nasty revolt. I doubted even my orders could hold them back much longer.

I was unarmed yet again, and felt naked without the weight of Excalibur at my hip. My eyes ran the length of the land in front of me, not leaving anything to chance. If any Woads were feeling particularly unforgiving, I would not let them catch me unawares. They would have to fight me, weaponless or not.

Gawain's proclamation from earlier had struck a chord with the others. Even Dagonet had arched an eyebrow at the thought. The worst part was that it seemed very logical. They could keep him there easily, and it was the only place we'd seen hoof tracks. Gawain could be right in his theory, and that's why I was this close to the Woads. I was going to find out just what was going on.

Although I was near the dwelling where the British men and women should be, I saw no signs of any of them. I could distantly detect a hint of burning wood on the breeze, but other than that there was no sign of them. They hid well.

"Hello, Arthur."

I whipped around, my hand grasping at my hip for a sword that wasn't there. Drenna stood behind me with a faint smirk on her face and her arms held casually at her sides. She wasn't wearing the blue paint as she had been the previous times I'd seen her, and she'd let her dark hair fan around her shoulders. She was older than me by probably ten summers, but she was still a very attractive woman. The only signs of her approaching elderly age were the streaks of gray in her hair and the hints of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth.

"Is there a particular reason you are sneaking around the border of my land?" she continued. I could tell by the quirk of her eyebrows that she knew I meant no harm, but I immediately went on the defensive.

"I was not sneaking," I said. "I did not think it would do me much good to run into the midst of your camp, treaty or not."

She crossed her arms, and leaned her shoulder lazily against a tree to her left. She was not at all the picture of a strict leader, but there was still that aura about her: danger. Even a child with no fighting experience would be able to feel it; the sense of being in the midst of a very hostile animal who had reigned in its temper for the moment.

"That is true, Roman," she agreed. "What is it you want?" Her amused expression shifted in an instant, and I didn't even get a chance to open my mouth to answer the question.

"I grant you no more time, if that is what you are after," she finished flatly.

"I assure you, lady, time is not what I am after," I replied.

She nodded. "Da. So what is it then?"

"I want answers," I said cooly. Both of her eyebrows rose. "My men and I have searched every inch of these lands, and have found no signs of our missing knight. The only thing resembling a clue have been the horse tracks…but they are where you forbid us to venture."

Her face fell into an inscrutable mask, and she suddenly stood straight. The leader reappeared before I could even blink.

"We offer no assistance to you, Arturius," she said, voice deadly quiet. "You find your own men if you misplace them."

My eyes narrowed. "I did not ask for help, nor was it my plan to."

"Then what is your plan?" she snapped.

"My plan is to find out why the only place I find evidence of my scout's presence is in the one place you do not allow me to enter," I growled. "Why is that?"

Her eyes flashed. "If you are suggesting that I am harboring the man you seek, you are out of your mind. I have no use for a scout. I have plenty of my own. And if you think I keep him as a prisoner of war, that too is crazy. I have no need to interrogate any of your men. We do not often come to battle, which I have to admit I am grateful for."

"I do not pretend to understand what goes on in your head," I said coldly. "Nor am I suggesting it. All I want to know is what is beyond that clearing that you so desperately want to keep hidden."

She took a deep breath, calming herself. She ran a hand through her massive tangle of dark curls and then stared away from me, off to the area that would lead to the embankment.

"There is something hidden there," she finally admitted. "Not many know of it. I would presume that barely half of my own people know it is there. I wish to keep it hidden from your men."

"Why?" I asked curiously, trying to keep the venom out of my tone.

"It is more precious to me than even my own life, Arturius," she said quietly. "If it were lost to me, I do not know what I would do."

"What is this thing you are talking about?"

She shook her head, turning her eyes back onto me. "I shan't tell you that. Just believe me when I say that it is of no importance to you. It will not hinder your search for the missing knight. It is a small place beyond those trees, and I have been there since our battle. There is no sign of the man down there. As I have said, I have no need or even the smallest hint of a desire to keep Sarmatian knights near my lands. I want him gone as much as you do."

I studied my hands as I thought over her response. There were many scars there, memoirs from battles that I barely recall. It was a guess that more than half of the injuries I'd sustained were inflicted by the hands of Woads. Maybe I'd even received some from the woman standing in front of me. I could not remember. All I knew was that my choices right now were to trust an enemy or start a war against a whole race of people with only me and five other men fighting. The outlook was grim, and my frown would not lessen.

"We leave in a week and a half," I stated.

"Yes," Drenna responded.

"If you were to…find his body after that, I request that you give him a proper burial. I understand that you do not know our specific funeral rituals, but he deserves an honorable end," I said quietly. There was suddenly a very large lump lodged in my throat that made speaking difficult. "He was a…a good man, despite what you might think." I cleared my throat compulsively, fighting back the wave of emotion that was hitting me.

"I will," Drenna promised sincerely. There was a pause, but she continued, "I have a brother. I cannot imagine losing him as you have lost yours. I am your enemy, make no mistake of it, but I am respectful enough to say that I am deeply sorry for your loss."

I looked up at her, blinking to clear my blurry vision. "Thank you, but Tristan was not my brother."

She was backing up, although the steps made her seem like she was gliding rather than walking. She smiled sadly. "Not by blood," was all she said before she'd disappeared.

*+*Aderyn*+*

"Come on."

"No."

"Just do it!"

"No."

"Tristan."

"No.

"But-"

"No."

I glowered at him evilly. He was sitting stubbornly in one of the wooden chairs with his arms crossed, glaring at my offering of soap and a cloth to dry himself with.

"It's one bath!" I cried, throwing my arms up exasperatedly. "Don't you get it? You. Are. Filthy. You have not properly washed since the gods know how long before that battle! I cleaned the blood off of you as best as I could, but you are _dirty_! And I have been lending you my bed! You either come with me to the damn river and clean yourself or I swear on all that is holy, I will put you in the horse shed!"

I pointed the soap threateningly at him, and he eyed it distastefully. We'd been having this argument since I woke up this morning. I'd been surprised to find him up, walking to the chair he was currently occupying. It had taken him awhile and he'd hobbled a bit, but he made it in the end. I'd sat up, clapping, but I don't think my applause was very appreciated.

He suddenly let out a feral growl, and snatched the soap and blanket from me. I grinned triumphantly.

"Fantastic!" I said enthusiastically. "It is a bit of walk, but we need to get you going again."

He didn't even acknowledge me, just continued to scowl. I paid it no heed, and led the way into the usual British cloudy day. It was relatively warm out, which was why I chose this day to coerce him into bathing. The water would be much warmer than usual, so I thought it would lower the amount of complaints. I planned to clean his clothes as best I could while he took his bath.

We were out of sight of the cottage, and I could hear the river bubbling just up ahead.

"The ice has melted!" I said happily as we made it to the edge of the flowing water. Tristan grunted disinterestedly. I turned to him, and took out all of his braids. He glowered at me evilly, but I just hummed happily, ignoring his fury. I was in a surprisingly good mood.

I knew the source of my lightheartedness, but I was rather unwilling to admit it to him or myself. The truth of the matter was that I'd had another dream of Tristan last night. Instead of him saving me from Drenna's black eyes though, he'd caught me when I was running away through the forest. The barbarian chasing me had cowered at the sight of him as he held me to him protectively. They slunk away into the night, and suddenly it wasn't dark anymore. All around me was blinding sunshine, but his eyes seemed to shine ten times brighter than the effervescent light surrounding me. Unfortunately I woke up when he kissed me again, and felt a crippling disappointment when I'd opened my eyes.

Being in such close proximity to the man when I was thinking about having dreams of kissing him perturbed me. When I unraveled the last plait, I took a few long steps back to put distance between us. I turned away with the pretense of testing the water to hide the flush creeping up my neck.

"It's a bit cold," I warned him, turning around, "but it should-"

The words died on my tongue as I watched him pulling the tunic over his head. I'd seen him shirtless before now, having ripped the clothes from him after he was hurt. But this was…glorious. His muscles rippled under his skin as he pulled it off. He did it so slowly that I thought for a moment it was only for my benefit. But then I realized that the tunic was off, and he was giving me a very odd look. I had drawn out the two seconds it had taken him in my mind so that it seemed much longer. I cleared my throat obnoxiously, pretending to have a coughing fit to gather my wits.

"Right," I said. "Your stitches look fine. I should be able to take them out soon." I turned my face back towards the water, and shoved the blanket and soap at him. He took them, and I gestured at him with both hands, still not looking. "Give me the clothes. I am going to attempt to clean them. I heard rustling for a moment, and then he handed me a pile of cloth that was a bit bigger than I expected.

I examined it confusedly, pulling apart the garments while listening to the sound of him getting into the water in the back of my mind. The tunic was in my hands, but there was something else…I held it out, and started to choke on my own breath when I realized what it was.

Breeches. I was holding his breeches in my hands. If I was correct, he was naked. I averted my eyes, and bustled on down to a distant part of the stream to clean off his clothes. I felt stupid, thinking he wouldn't take his pants off. I hadn't really expected him to wear them, but it hadn't crossed my mind that he would take them off either.

I dipped a small bit of cloth into the water, and started to scrub at the stains on his clothes, most of which were blood and dirt. I didn't want to completely wash them because than he would have to wear wet clothes for awhile…or stay naked until they dried. I flushed a deeper shade of red, and rubbed rapidly at a bloodstain shaped like a crescent moon.

I felt flustered by him, which annoyed me. I wasn't used to this amount of discomfort when dealing with other people. Which was because I didn't often deal with other people. It was me and Drenna, and that was it. This man…unnerved me. He made my head spin, and there was a pang in my chest whenever I looked at him. I didn't like it. The sensation was unwelcome.

My eyes betrayed me, and darted down to the section of stream he bathed in. I wish I hadn't. The water only came up to his hips, so a large section of his body was available for viewing. His chest was muscular, but subtly so. He had a lean build, seemingly more sinewy than anything else. The muscles in his arms were clearly defined, and there were more tattoos on his chest and shoulders, all symbols from his native land, I assumed. His stomach was excessively sculpted, and I guessed that it would be rock hard beneath my hands…

My eyes bulged, and I looked back at the dirty tunic in my hands. I felt like a little girl again; one who knew nothing of intimacy or the sexual nature. It wasn't like I'd never seen a man naked before. I'd had experience with men, although I'd like to forget it. At that thought, I sobered slightly and suddenly felt extremely old. I went back to cleaning, blatantly ignoring the urges I had to look back at the bathing man.

Without thinking, I started to sing quietly. It was a song Drenna sang to me to get me to sleep back when I had night terrors. She said her people's soldiers used to sing it when going to battle, thinking of the women they'd left behind. I translated it into my native language, thinking that it sounded much more beautiful that way

"_There should be snowflakes falling. I can't wait to see if there's snowmen waiting for me. They'll keep you company 'til I return. And time is dragging forward now that I'm away, and I miss the way I fell, I fell into your arms each day. Like an artist stands their painting, I can hear your heartbeat. Clicking the cadence to the sounds of you. You're patiently waiting for me. I feel the remnants of our last kiss still lingering on my lips. Now I'm gone, but before too long I'll be holding you safe in my arms. The stars are shining. Are you watching them too? I swear they're lighting the sky for you. They'll keep you company 'til I return. And time is slowly stopping now that I'm away, and I-"_

A throat cleared, and I nearly jumped out of my skin, letting out a high-pitched yelp that made me sound strangely like a squirrel getting trampled. Tristan was eying me from the water like he thought I was losing my mind, one of his eyebrows raised in a wide arch. I clutched my chest, trying to slow the beating of my heart.

"Gods, you move quietly," I gasped. I shook my head a little, and tried not to think about the fact that he was naked. His arms were crossed over the ground, and I couldn't see anything besides his head and shoulders, thankfully.

"What were you singing?" he asked, ignoring my attempts to breathe properly.

"Oh, it is just something Drenna taught me," I replied, shrugging. "I translated it because I thought it would sound better in this language."

He set his chin on his arms, and rolled it a bit so he stared at me from an angle. His eyes were so penetrating and harsh in reality. I liked the way they were in my dreams: happy and filled with some other unidentifiable emotion. He was much less pleasant when I was awake.

I leaned forward and took a lock of his wet hair in my hands. He let me this time, seeming to lose his qualms about me touching his hair.

"Use the soap on your hair," I commanded, dropping the piece I'd separated back into place. He glared at me, and I returned it. He grumbled, and went back to where he'd been to retrieve the soap and finish cleaning himself. I finished washing his clothes, and went back to where he was currently shaking his head like a wet dog.

I dropped his clothes next to the blanket, and turned away. I heard him get out, and waited for him to tell me I could look. Instead he just popped up in front of me, holding the last bit of soap and blanket. He was standing very close, and had fixed me with that gaze that made you feel like he was somehow reading your mind instead of just catching your eye. I took both from him, and then stepped around him to start back toward the house.

The walk was silent and slow as I tried to keep at a pace he was comfortable with. He scowled the whole time, and I understood how frustrating it must have been for him to not be able to walk properly when he was used to being battle-ready at all times.

When we arrived at the house, I went into the cottage and put the soap and blanket into a trunk. I turned, Tristan was sitting rigidly in one of the chairs, facing out towards the open door. Without asking, I stepped up and started plaiting his hair like I had before, and he didn't protest. I used the same leather chords to secure them, and then stood in front of him to admire my work. For once he didn't look at my face. He seemed far away, lost in memories where I could never join him.

I observed his high cheekbones and straight nose. His lips were thin and he was nearly always frowning, giving him a permanent severe expression. His eyes gave you the feeling of staring right into the depths of a dark chasm. You didn't know what you would find if you jumped into it, and it frightened you. At the same time you felt a desperate curiosity to know what was at the bottom.

With a jolt like I'd been struck by lightning I realized just how attracted I was to this man. I'd seen many Roman soldiers, Woad men, and hunters who roamed these woods, but none had struck me as Tristan had.

Just as I had in my dream, I took one of his plaits in between my fingers, and moved it from his eyes. He looked up like he was waking from a dream, and our eyes met. The air felt charged around me, and a shock ran through my fingers when my fingertips brushed the skin of his cheek as I placed the hair on the other side of his head. I'd never felt such taut tension, like any movement would make the very air around us explode. His eyes were daring me to do something, but I didn't know what it was. I felt a wild thrill, and my heartbeat kicked up a notch. What was this?

As I always did when a situation was unusual, I backed away. I left the cottage, feeling Tristan's accusing eyes on me until I rounded the corner, out of his sight.

**Da: Good**

**The song used is called "Lighting the Sky" by Lights Out Dancing. It's not mine, and belongs to its respective writers and performers. But I truly love it, so I felt like it had to go in here somewhere.  
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**Sorry to leave you guys when the tension is so high. :P But I'll be back in a week or two, so don't worry!**

**Oh, and five reviews again, please and thanks! Every review makes my day, lol. I don't have much of a life.**

**Love to everyone!**


	13. I'll Keep You Alive

**So I'm back, my darlings! I hope you missed me as I much as I missed all of you! So I have good news: I have plenty more writing time now! Yaaayyy! Thanks for being patient with me. :D**

**I know that things are developing pretty slow, but obviously it should take awhile for trust to develop between them. Would you trust a man who you watched kill men and then slammed you into a wall, or a woman who was brought up by your enemy and kept pretty much everything from you? No. So it's going to be slow for a bit. The action comes back in chapter 17. (;**

**This chapter is dedicated to BloodyHavoc and youronlydoll. :) You guys really made my day when I got your reviews, so this is for you!**

_"Today is a winding road that's taking me to places that I didn't want to go, whoa. Today, in the blink of an eye, I'm holding onto something, and I do not know why I tried. I tried to read between the lines. I tried to look in your eyes. I want a simple explanation for what I'm feeling inside. Gotta find a way out. Maybe there's a way out."-Boys Like Girls_

*+*Aderyn*+*

After my uncomfortable moment with Tristan, I stayed out of the house for the rest of the day. Now that he was able to move around more freely I figured he wouldn't want to stay cooped up inside, but I never saw him. I estimated the amount of time until he would be able to leave for good, and decided that his stitches could come out in about two days and then it wouldn't be long after that before he was gone. Less than a week. I loathed admitting it, but I didn't want him to go. He wasn't the best company, but he was still another human. I was used to my solidarity, but that didn't mean I wanted it. I would have loved to be around people more often, but I had a feeling most of the Woads only refrained from attacking me because of Drenna and other people rarely ventured this deep into these woods.

The sun was setting, so I'd started to roast what was left of my rabbit catch from yesterday. A fire crackled warmly in front of me, and the smell of seasoned meat wafted through the air. It was lucky that I was a decent cook because Drenna was possibly the worst one I'd ever met. She knew how the theory, but for some reason she never failed to burn everything. I smiled at the thought as I pulled out materials to make new arrows. Egryn stepped on three of mine today. He was a bloody idiot sometimes.

I started to shave down the ends of the sticks with a dagger to make shafts, receiving a few splinters in the process. I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings, but I distinctly heard a horse approaching. I growled, slamming the half-finished arrow down on the ground.

"Dammit, Egryn! Did you figure out how to open the latch again?" I shouted. I turned, but it wasn't Egryn standing there. It was Tristan's dapple gray mare, staring at me curiously. I approached her slowly with my hands held out towards her.

"What are you doing here, girl?" I cooed, stroking her snout. "How did you get out of the stable?"

She neighed, and nipped at the sleeve on my tunic. "Your master would probably decapitate me if he knew I allowed you to go wandering off, so please don't run away," I said softly.

"I would, yes, but I let her out so it's not necessary."

I looked past the tall horse's shoulder, and Tristan stood there. His hair was fully dry now, and somehow already looked dirty again. He was looking at me seriously with an apple in one hand and a horse brush in the other.

"What is her name?" I asked, continuing to pet her. He came up on the right side, and started to brush her. I watched the rhythmic motions of his hands as he ran the brush along the length of her back.

"Isolde," he answered.

"Isolde," I repeated. She threw her head back proudly, and stamped the ground beneath her feet once. I giggled, running my fingers through her mane. Tristan remained quiet, and I imagined he was pretending like I wasn't there. When I was sure he would speak no more, I went back to the fire, checked on how the rabbit was cooking, and then went back to crafting the arrows. I'd completed three of them when Isolde neighed. I turned my head, and smiled at the sight.

Tristan stood in front of her, patting the sides of her long neck, and she had her snout resting on his shoulder affectionately. He was speaking to her quietly, and I saw the affection on his face that he'd yet to show until now.

"Is it only horses you can express love for," I asked, "or is it just anything besides human beings?"

His eyes darted to me, and then back to his horse. "Humans are cruel, and have the mindset to stab you when your back is turned. Animals rely on instinct, and will show love to those who show them love. Innocence. The value of it is lost to most people, but not to me."

It was the most he'd ever said to me, and for once he didn't sound patronizing.

"That is true," I admitted, "but it is not of all people."

"It is," he replied simply. "All humans have the capacity to turn on you."

"There are those who choose not to act like that," I pointed out. "For instance, you are the least talkative person I have ever come across, but I did not abandon you when you were injured because of it." I smirked at him. "In my defense, I didn't know how unfriendly you were. Maybe I would have thought twice about it if I had."

He snorted, and I turned back to my arrows, testing their weight and sharpness. I strung my bow, and nocked each one to make sure they were straight. Once they were perfect, I stood and aimed for a target Drenna had painted on a tree several yards away. She used it to teach me archery. I remembered all the lessons where I dissolved into tears because I was terrible at it. I let loose the arrow, and it sailed right above the target, not even hitting the outer ring. I frowned. It seemed like nothing much had changed since my youth. Whenever I did actually hit something I was aiming for, it was more a result of luck than any level of skill.

I nocked the next one, and prepared to shoot.

"Stop," Tristan said. I jumped a little hearing him so close behind me. I turned my head, and saw him standing only about a foot away. He pushed my chin so that I was facing the target. Before I could think about what was going on, he had one leg between mine. He kicked my ankle a little, and my legs spread wider. I flushed scarlet.

"Legs apart," he commanded. He moved forward until his chest was pressed against my back. I swallowed convulsively, hoping he wasn't feeling the same effects of the proximity as me. He curled his fingers over mine on the bow and arrow, adjusting them. "Arms straight, elbows up. Back straight." He let go of the hand holding the arrow, and splayed his hand flat on my stomach, pushing me even further into him.

My breath hitched at how close we were. Time seemed to still on the outside, and speed up on the inside. My breath sounded loud to my ears, and I felt like every single drop of blood pulsing in my veins was heated to boiling point. I sensed every move he made, even the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest when he breathed. He leaned his head closer to me just as a gust of wind blew through the trees, and I felt his hair tickling my cheek as it moved with the breeze. I couldn't even think from the intensity. His lips were right next to my ear, and I could only just see his face out of my peripheral. His eyes were in the shadows underneath his hair, but he was nearer to me than he'd ever been.

"Shoot," he whispered, breath mingling with the breeze that touched my face.

I let go of the arrow with a twang, and it whizzed through the air, landing directly in the middle of the target with a thunk. I didn't notice this, however, as I was too busy looking at Tristan. He'd taken a step back, and nodded at me.

"Better," he said disinterestedly, starting to walk away. I remained where I was, the remnants of my blush remaining on my face, my bow still raised, and my mouth agape stupidly.

What just happened?

*+*Arthur*+*

I walked back to the camp later in a bad mood. I had not really received answers from the truthfully insightful Woad woman, nothing but more confusion. It seemed like all of her "answers" just lead to more questions. What could be so important to a Woad? The only things I could think of were some sort of weapon, or maybe even an animal of some sorts. I knew how Tristan was with his hawk, so I'd witnessed how easy it could have been for her to forge a connection with an animal.

Something was achieved during the meeting at least: I had ensured that if Tristan were found, he would be paid his final respects. I would pay homage to him our way when we got back home. I would bury something of his in place of his body, do the normal rituals, and stick one of his swords from the grave. I could not use his usual one because it was still lost, along with him. I knew he had a stash of weapons in his room though. I would just use one of those.

With a sinking feeling I realized I'd already accepted the death of the scout. We had searched for him for weeks. Hope had slid from my grasp, replaced with the usual pang of loss I felt at the thought of my other fallen knights. Gawain was right: I needed to face it. Tristan was dead. Injured or not, he would have found a way to contact us. There was no other excuse for him vanishing.

When I stepped into the camp, I was ambushed with eager questions from the others, and a frosty silence and glare from Gawain. I waved them away, and they were silent. I took a wine skin from my bundle of belongings, and took a long drink. I could feel their anticipatory stares on my back, and I took a deep breath.

"I met with Drenna," I started, in no hurry to get to the point.

"And?" Bors said impatiently. I stood up, and turned around to face them.

"She has said that there is something extremely important to her in that section of the forest. She has refused to tell me what, but she believes that we might ruin whatever it is. She says that she has been in there since Tristan's disappearance, and has seen so signs of him."

A bird chirped somewhere above us, but no other noise was made. All of their faces were a bit dumbfounded.

Lancelot recovered first, his face contorting into disbelieving anger. "That's it?"

I didn't reply, knowing that the rest of their assaults would come.

"This is just as bad as before!" Galahad continued. "We have no more answers than we did an hour ago."

"We know that he is not there," I replied calmly, showing them with my eyes that I was in no mood to be defied.

"And you believe her?" Gawain suddenly cut in. "You would take the word of a Woad, one of the people who have killed so many of us, and the very sister of their campaign leader?"

"Think about it, Gawain!" I shouted. "Why would she allow us to stay in these woods if she knew where he was? She does not want us here anymore than we want to be here! She has no reason to hide him! We are not at war, therefore she needs no prisoners!"

"WE _ARE_ AT WAR!" he bellowed back. "WE ARE ALWAYS AT WAR WITH THE WOADS!" He threw the clay bowl that he was holding, and it shattered against a tree. "TRISTAN IS DEAD! HE'S JOINED THE REST OF US WHO WERE KILLED BY THEM, AND YOU REMAIN HERE ON SOME FOOLISH NOTION YOU HAVE THAT HE IS FINE! DO YOU WISH FOR THE REST OF US TO DIE, ARTHUR? IS THAT WHY YOU KEEP US HERE?"

He turned without another word, and strode off into the trees. Silence followed his outburst, and every knight looked away like they were embarrassed. Galahad glared at me, and then took off after Gawain.

"Does anyone else wish to storm off?" I asked, keeping my voice forcibly calm. "By all means, do so. I do not wish to stop you."

Dagonet ran his hand over the back of his shaved head, and then sat heavily back down where he stood, nodding to me confidently. Bors was next, flopping down next to his friend. Lancelot and I locked eyes, a silent conversation. He was trying to understand why I was staying here, and I tried to tell him that I was staying loyal to Tristan. He nodded almost imperceptibly, and sat down as well.

I turned around to hide the look of anguish. Never had so much discord been between us all. I knew what I had to do, even though I was not ready to stop fighting for the missing knight. If I wanted to keep peace between us all, I would have to leave…and soon.

*+*Aderyn*+*

After the archery incident, we didn't talk for the rest of the day. I saw him a few times, always with his horse or sharpening his weapons. Avoiding him was impossible, as he was a constant thought in my head, but not speaking to him was easy. He was never very talkative.

I made supper as usual. I let Egryn out, as he was antsy without his new favorite companion, Isolde, with him. I watched as they seemed to play tag together up ahead of me, grinning at their silliness

"Your horse is ruining mine," Tristan grumbled, dropping down heavily on the other side of the brewing stew.

"Sorry," I said immediately. He picked up the ladle, and a bowl and helped himself to the food. I was used to handing him his food, and leaving him to eat alone. It looked like I was going to have a guest tonight.

I wanted to ask him about the archery lesson, but didn't know how I could bring it up. I doubted he had the answers for what I wanted to ask about anyway. Like...why did my heart feel like it was trying to break out of my chest when he was that close? Why did the image of him from my dream seem so inviting? And most of all: why did the thought of him leaving now make me want to saddle Egryn and follow him to wherever he's going? Tristan couldn't possibly answer them, but I had no other place to go for answers.

There was a loud screech, and before I could collect my thoughts, a large bird landed next to Tristan on the log. I screamed, leaping up from my seat, and grabbed the first thing I saw to attack the bird with. I raised the wooden spoon high over my head, but found a restraining hand on my arm.

"Calm down, you crazy wench," Tristan growled, pushing me away. The hawk continued to squawk madly, hopping up and down on the log like a crazed rabbit with flailing wings. I watched as Tristan knelt before her, speaking lowly in a language I didn't recognize. Finally the bird calmed down, and started to preen, glaring at me viciously as it did so. Only when I saw the glare did I recognize it.

"That's the devil-bird!" I hissed, brandishing my spoon at it. "It has been following me, and accusing me of things!"

Tristan threw a rather sarcastic unfriendly look over his shoulder as he held out meat for the hawk. "She knew I was here."

The way the bird took the meat from him, and then nipped at his fingers afterwards made them seem awfully familiar with each other. She hopped again, and then snapped at him. He actually chuckled, stroking the feathers on her breast lovingly.

"How did you manage to tame a hawk?" I asked. Most of the things he did were baffling to me.

"I found her injured under a tree while I was on patrol," he explained, stroking her back lightly. "I healed her."

"What is her name?"

"She never told me."

I waited for him to laugh or smile, but he didn't. He wasn't joking. The bird took to his arm, and he said a few more things to her in that strange language before jerking his arm upwards. The bird took flight with another loud shriek, and I watched her until she disappeared.

"She hates me," I said conversationally.

"You tried to hit her with a spoon," he said scathingly.

"Well, she keeps verbally attacking me," I replied stiffly.

"She is a bird. She cannot do anything verbally."

"I liked it when you did not talk," I snapped. He smirked, thoroughly surprising me again. I expected him to get angry and broody again.

While I ate, he watched the forest. His eyes left nothing untouched, scanning every inch. Although he was as still as a dead man, his eyes never stopped moving. He struck me as the paranoid type. I set down my bowl, and flicked my eyes to him for about the thousandth time that night. He'd been studying one thing for awhile now, but I couldn't figure out what. He leaned over, and snatched up the spoon off the ground. He stared at something on the handle, running his thumb over it.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

I tried to hide my grin by biting my lip. I'd stolen it from a particularly stupid group of soldiers who'd been rather baffled by the appearance of Egryn, who stomped into their clearing like a fool. Two of them had run smack into each other and been knocked out. While they were in uproar, I stole the spoon, a pot, and a dagger before calling Egryn to come to me. Sometimes his idiocy was beneficial.

"I don't remember."

"Lie," he accused. He held it in front of my face, and pointed at a group of markings on the side. "Do you see this?"

"Yes," I said confusedly.

"Do you know what it says?" he asked.

My face reddened to my annoyance, and I glared past the spoon, to him. "I cannot read."

He seemed taken aback. "Not at all?"

I shook my head. "I can read some of the Woad language, but not much. It has been dying out for centuries. It's mostly only spoken now."

He raised his eyebrows, and withdrew the spoon from my personal space bubble. "Well, it states that it is the property of a Roman cavalry."

I couldn't hide my grin this time. "Oops."

He scoffed at me, tossing the spoon back to the ground, clearly not caring if I stole from Romans. I ran my hand through my hair to get it out of my face, staring at the symbols on the spoon. I willed them to make sense, but I obviously couldn't force myself to read with sheer will. I wanted to be able to. I glanced at Tristan then away. Perhaps he could teach me...but no. He would be gone soon. I couldn't learn to read in a matter of days.

Tristan jerked suddenly, posture going rigid. His eyes were staring at me piercingly, and I raised an eyebrow at him. "What?" I asked.

"You are the ghost," he said.

"I'm what?"

"Romans that come through here say the woods are haunted," he explained, "by a girl and her horse. They see her intermittently, but she always vanishes. Missing items...singing in the night..."

I blinked before bursting out laughing. Tears streamed down my face and I clutched my side, trying to calm my hysterics. It was probably five minutes before I controlled myself enough to speak. I was flat on my back on the ground, giggling at the black sky.

"Oh, Romans are _gullible_!" I wheezed. "Ghost, HA!"

"You are a thief," he said quietly.

I shrugged disinterestedly. "Survival of the fittest, my friend."

When he didn't reply, I closed my eyes, just listening to the sounds of the leaves blustering in the wind and Tristan's breathing. I was aware of how close his thigh was to my head. It seemed like any time I was close to Tristan I couldn't help but feel extremely warm, but not in temperature. He made me entire being feel warm, like the memories of the pain I'd felt in the past wouldn't be able to haunt me while he was around. I heard him stand, but didn't open my eyes. He clucked his tongue, and I heard the horses come to him. He whispered to them as he lead them away, and I just stayed there. I knew I'd have to get up, but I wasn't ready. It was still cozy next to the fire, and I wasn't ready to give it up yet.

And then there were two strong arms on me; one behind my head, and the other under my knees. I was lifted easily off the ground in one swift movement, and my eyes flew open. Tristan had picked me up, and was now walking me back to the house. He must have thought I was asleep. I clamped my eyes shut again, and tried not to grin. He was just as warm as in my dreams. He set me down on my bed, and I wanted to ask him where he would sleep. But then I felt a soft caress from my temple to my jaw. My heart fluttered at the contact. Was he touching my face?

It was gone as quick as it had come, and left me desperate to reach out for him. My finger twitched subconsciously, and I swallowed to stop myself from grinning. I felt like a foolish child with a crush on a boy, but maybe that's what I was.

My heart sunk, and any urge to smile or giggle went with it. That is what it was. I had feelings for the silent knight I'd saved.

Things just got a helluva lot more complicated.

**There ya go. The soft and fuzzy feelings have been admitted. Except they won't remain that way for looooong. ;)**

**I'm thinking about not asking you guys for a certain amount of reviews anymore, but I would really like for this story to make 100 before it's over. It would really suck that I spent nearly all of my free time on it just for it go completely to waste. :( Let me know what you guys think about it in your review, I guess.**

**In the mean time, I ask for five reviews, if you please. (: Love you guys, and thanks for sticking with me when I was having personal troubles.**


	14. If You Show Me the Way

**Yeah, you guys probably want to murder me for the length of my notes lately. Sorry. :P**

**I was reading over previous chapters, and realized I need to edit. So I'll be editing all of my previous chapters after I put this up. There won't be any changes, just fixed grammar. :)**

_"Oh, simple thing, where have you gone? I'm getting old, and I need something to rely on. So tell me when you're gonna let me in. I'm getting tired, and I need somewhere to begin. And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know? This could be the end of everything. So why don't we go somewhere only we know? Somewhere only we know."-Keane_

*+*Aderyn*+*

The sound of a bird cawing made me open my eyes. I wished I hadn't. The sunlight above me was blinding, and I held up one hand to shield them. When I was adjusted, I sat up. I wasn't in my house, that was the first thing I noticed. I was sitting in a field filled with overgrown grass. I stood, and watched the way every blade seemed to flow as one in the gentle wind. It was warm, and all I could see in every direction was ground and sky. I'd never been here before, but it was warm and…enticing. The bird cawed again, and I watched a familiar hawk swoop through the sky.

This was freedom. This was what some men searched their entire lives for, and I'd found it in a dream. I realized how hard I was smiling, but I couldn't stop. A hand touched my shoulder, and I turned. I knew it was him the second his skin made contact with mine.

Tristan was smiling like I was, and his eyes shone like stars, brighter than even the sunlight. I touched his face like I was used to doing it, and flattened my palms on his cheeks. His hands covered mine, his fingers lacing through my fingers to hold them there. In that moment, nothing was bad. No harm could befall us, ever, and I felt more at ease than I had since I was a child in the arms of my parents.

Something shook my leg to rouse me, and I snorted unattractively, sitting up in bed. I blinked at Tristan as the last remnants of my dream disappeared. I was disappointed to see that he was not nearly as happy as he had been in the dream.

"Come," he said simply, holding out a hand for me to take.

"Where you goin'?" I said stupidly, voice rough from sleep.

"We are going to spar," he said simply, as if we had planned this.

"But I'm asleep," I informed him, eyes closed, still sitting up. "I cannot do anything right when I am asleep."

He sighed, and emptied a water skin on my head before I could register what he was about to do. I screamed, jumping up, and taking stuttering breaths. The water was ice cold and freezing me to my bones.

"Mab i butain!" I yelled, pointing at him threateningly. "Yr hyn y uffern wnaethoch chi wneud hynny amdano?"

"I cannot understand you when you switch languages," he reminded me. I hadn't even realized I was speaking the native language until he'd pointed it out.

"Why did you do that?" I ground out with my teeth clenched.

"Woke you up, didn't it?" he said flippantly. "Be outside in ten minutes."

"Hey, you cannot order me around!" I said, outraged. He kept walking away. "Do not walk away from me! I am talking to you! Tristan! TRISTAN!" But he was gone, completely ignoring every word I spoke. "Mae hyn yn fy nhŷ! Ni allwch archebu mi o gwmpas! Dwi ddim fel yr wyf os gwelwch yn dda!"

I flopped myself back to the ground childishly, crossing my arms in a huff. I would not go outside. He thought he could just take over in someone else's home, and lord it over them? Well, hell no. I had no master.

I realized that I was freezing cold and rather wet. My angry protest of going outside didn't mean I had to die of hyperventilation. I stood, and pulled on a pair of leather breeches, and a gray tunic. It was baggy, so I used a length of rope to tie it around my waist tightly. I buckled my sword around my hips, and placed daggers in my boots, pant leg, and in the waistband of my breeches. After that, I sat back down stubbornly with my legs crossed beneath me.

I wanted to go out there, which was the worst part. I enjoyed being in his company even though he was generally unpleasant. My heart betrayed me, wanting to be around him as often as was possible. He'd even given me my first night without nightmares in almost a decade and a half. The part of me that had wished I hadn't saved him was completely silenced and replaced with a new voice that didn't want him to go. Not being able to see him now was driving me insane.

I stood with a frustrated yell, and stomped out the door. He was sitting on one of the logs, cleaning his sword with a cloth that had bloodstains on it. He ran his eyes from my soaking wet hair to my dirty boots, and then went back to what he was doing. That simple once-over made me blush.

I sat next to him, and watched the way he brushed the smallest spec of dust from the weapon.

"How come you can be so gentle with your animals and weapons but not with people?" I asked without a second thought. The second it was out of my mouth, I wanted to rein it back in. My inability to control when I spoke was kicking me in my own ass.

"They cannot talk back," he said pointedly.

I scoffed, leaning in an arch to stretch my back. My shoulder locked so hard that I gasped in pain. I grit my teeth, and jerked the wrist of my wounded arm with my opposite hand, popping it back into place. He watched the ordeal, but didn't comment. Maybe he'd given up on asking, figuring I'd never answer. That had been my plan at first, but now I wanted to spill my guts to him, all of the things I'd been keeping quiet. He would keep it to himself, I knew that, but what kept me from doing it altogether was that I wasn't sure what it would do to me. I wasn't ready to drudge up old demons from my past. They were too numerous to face at once.

He stood with lithe grace, and I did the same, however, with much less poise. We stepped away from the remnants of the fire and the logs I used for seats, and took fighting stances across from one another.

"Don't be too hard on yourself when I win," I said teasingly, starting to circle him. "It will just be your age and injury catching up to you."

He smirked right as he swung. I blocked it easily, but barely blocked the second one. Damn. His injury seemed to have healed a bit too well.

I struck towards his shoulder, and he blocked, jabbing towards my stomach a second later. I leapt back, but the tip of his sword ripped a small hole in my tunic. I laughed, sticking my finger in the tear.

"You owe me clothes, Sir," I jested, bending my knees to prepare for his next move.

When he didn't lunge, I did. Our swords sparked when he slashed his across mine. I kept my eyes locked with his, accepting the silent challenge to act. Knowing he didn't expect it, I lunged with my fist, punching him in the hand. His sword flew away from mine with a horrendous scraping sound, and I kicked him in the thigh before he could recover. While he was down, I put my sword to his chest, grinning triumphantly. He glared through his tangle of loose hair and braids.

"Cheat," he spat.

"No, no," I protested. "You never said we were just sparring with weaponry. Besides, there are no rules in real battle. You take any advantage you can find to keep the upper hand. Oh, and if you were holding back because I am a girl," I leaned down closer to him, "do not expect me to return the favor."

Tristan put his finger on my blade, and pushed it away from him so he could stand. I waited for him to gain his bearings, and then we assumed fighting stances again. We circled much longer this time, and I found I was distracted by his eyes. How could they be so…golden? Eyes were blue, green, brown, gray, or hazel; not gold.

He struck out, catching me off guard. I blocked, but it jarred me and I stumbled a bit. One corner of his mouth had twitched upwards, and I sneered. He knew I'd been distracted by him. I was glad he wasn't the sort to verbally taunt, like I was.

It was only a few more swings before I felt myself getting tired. He was going fast now, like the fight with the Woad that almost killed him. My movements became more and more frantic, and when I lost my footing, he sensed it. He brought his sword down hard on mine, as close to the hilt as he could get it. The blade fell from my hand with a thump, and I bent quickly to pick it up. That was a mistake.

He grabbed me by the front of my tunic, and held the blade to my throat. His eyes held triumph, and I rolled my own.

"That was a fluke," I informed him.

He scoffed, letting go of me. He dug his boot beneath my sword, and kicked it up. I caught it deftly, and he swung his with a slight grin, letting me know that he was ready for another round.

*+*Arthur*+*

I woke up with a pounding headache, and a resolve I hadn't expected. Ever since Gawain and Galahad walked off, there had been no speaking in the camp. Everyone was struggling to not take sides or to make it seem like they hadn't. But I didn't want sides. As long as my men had been in this godforsaken place, it was us against the world. We stood together through hell and high water. We were never each other's enemy.

I sat up, and rubbed my eyes. Bors and Galahad had this watch, so Lancelot, Gawain, and Dagonet were around me. Lancelot was the only of the three of them awake. He sat by his horse, watching the sun rise above the trees. I went to him, and sat down. He didn't say anything, nor did he give any indication that he knew I was there. He had a small carving in his hands that he carried with him everywhere. It was a roughly hewn bear with fangs bared, something sacred to his tribe. I'd never asked about it, but I knew it meant a lot to him. He brushed his thumb over it's face, and then shoved it into a pocket of his breeches.

"We are going to leave in two days," I told him. He turned to me, eyebrows flying up.

"We have longer than that," he reminded me. I nodded.

"I think Gawain may have been right," I responded quietly. "I have been allowing this fool's errand because I am not yet ready to face that Tristan is dead."

Lancelot wisely didn't say anything, and I took a deep breath, running a hand through my already messy hair.

"I never thought we would lost another so close to being released," he admitted eventually.

"I thought our last grave was dug with Percival," I agreed, allowing him to see just how weary I was for once. "Lancelot, I've had enough."

"We all have. It is only months now. This will hopefully be our last long mission."

I sighed, hoping he was right. I sat with him, my best friend, in companionable silence until the sun was clearly visible, spilling orange light over the camp. When I couldn't delay it any longer, I stood. "Men!" I called. Galahad and Bors stood from their spots on either side of the camp, and the others woke slowly. I waited until they were all convened and giving me their undivided inattention.

"Prepare to leave in two days time, with or without Tristan," I said. I hadn't been expecting to feel so choked when the words left me, so I turned away from them to start pretending to dig for something in my saddlebags. No one spoke, but I could hear them slowly starting to move around. There was a hand on my shoulder, and I sought the source. It was Gawain. His eyes still looked tired, but he was trying to smile ineffectively.

"I apologize, brother," he said.

"You are forgiven," I said immediately. "You were right. He is gone."

With that, I stood, and started to pack up the camp. I felt like I was leaving a part of me here, embedded in this ground.

*+*Aderyn*+*

Later that night I was washed up, having been extremely sweaty by the time we finished sparring. I learned a few things from Tristan, although I would never admit that out loud. He was skilled, and much faster than a man of his size should have been. I enjoyed a challenging fight, and I definitely got it. Drenna and I knew each other's tricks so well now that the point of practicing was only to keep in shape.

Tristan and I had just finished eating and were back in the cottage. The lamp was lit, and I was lying flat on my back in the middle of the floor, staring at the thatched ceiling speculatively. Tristan had been silent for awhile now, so I turned my head to see if he was alright. He was. There was a dagger in his hands that he was turning over slowly, looking at it from every angle. It had strange markings on it. I couldn't read, but I could recognize most languages I came across. I figured it must be Sarmatian, as not many of them left their land. There was an emotion in his eyes I didn't like, so I decided to distract him.

"I should take out your stitches," I said. He nodded, shoving the dagger back into his boot and taking his shirt off. I waited until he was lying down to move over to him, taking out my dagger and starting to cut them out in sections. I'd had stitches taken out before. It hurt, but he didn't protest or flinch. He actually seemed more relaxed.

"Do you miss your family?" I asked him.

"I was never very close with them," he answered unfeelingly.

I cut out two more stitches before phrasing my next question. "Do you miss the land then? I think that, if someone took me to Sarmatia right now, I would miss Briton."

He took his usual time to think it over, truly considering his response before speaking. I felt my fondness for him grow, thinking he was doing his best to give me a completely truthful answer.

"I have no love for Sarmatia," he finally responded. "What I love, what I want, is what it represents: freedom, having a home, and getting the hell away from Rome."

"Do the other men in your unit want to go back?" I asked.

"Galahad does," he answered immediately. "He is young, though. He remembers it through childhood eyes. Gawain will, most likely, as well. He wants to marry into his own people. Lancelot misses his family, so I have no doubt he will return. Arthur will go to Rome, where he is from. Dagonet never speaks of his plans, and Bors will stay for sure. He has a woman and ten bastard children here."

My hands stopped, and I gaped at Tristan. "_Ten bastards_?" I asked disbelievingly. He nodded, seeming unable to fathom it either.

I finished taking the stitches out, and examined my work. It was clean with no remnants of infection left behind. He had a long, pink scar all the way down his front that would fade over time. I doubted it would ever vanish though, as it was large. He sat up, and looked at it. He traced it all the way down, and I wanted to replace his fingers with mine.

"Tell me about them," I said quickly. He looked at me, arching an eyebrow. "The men you fight with."

He sighed, settling himself comfortably against the wall. I sat cross-legged in front of him, twirling my dagger.

"Arthur is our commander. He is half-Roman, half-Briton. Too damn selfless for his own good, and prays to the Christian god more than he talks to anyone. Never thought I would meet a Roman I could stand, but he is a good man and an even better leader. I would trust him to lead me into battle blindfolded and get me out alive," he began. I found it hard to see Tristan trusting anyone so fully. "Lancelot is second-in-command. He flirts with anything with two legs and breasts, and he is Arthur's best friend. He's the most bitter towards Rome besides Galahad, and he is adamant against Christianity. Dagonet is a good healer and the peacekeeper amongst us, but he rarely talks."

"You would know something about that," I interrupted, grinning. He glared, but it seemed mocking, almost teasing. I kept my mouth shut, and waited for him to continue.

"He keeps to himself mostly, but Bors is constantly trying to bring him out of his shell. Bors is obnoxious and loud, and his wench is ten times worse than he is. Her name is Vanora, and she seems to be slapping him more than anything else. I will never know how they managed to produce ten children in between fighting. Gawain is the talkative one who seems to be able to make friends with anyone he comes across. Women love him about as much as they do Lancelot, but he is more selective. He is best friends with Galahad, who is the youngest. He is either horribly pissed or ecstatic or asleep. There is not much of a middle ground with him. He can't hold his drink very well either."

I thought about his descriptions of each one of them, noticing how he seemed to make fun of them and show his fondness towards them at the same time. The only way I'd heard people talk like that before was when they spoke of family.

"You speak of them like they are your brothers," I said.

"Brothers in arms," he said boredly, shrugging one shoulder. He laid down suddenly, put his arms behind his head, and closed his eyes.

"Are you going to sleep?" I asked. He nodded. "Get in the bed then."

"It is your bed," he said firmly. "Sleep in it."

"But-"

"Aderyn, go to sleep," he growled.

I would have protested, but the sight of him was making it hard to remember how to speak. I crawled over to the bed, grabbed the thickest fur, and threw it over him. He opened one eye, nodded in thanks, and then closed it again. I went back to the nest, and curled up like a cat to keep warm. I fell asleep with a smile on my face. Tristan might have just opened up to me more than he has to anyone. Perhaps there was some stock in what I felt for him.

**Mab i butain**:** Son of a whore**

**Yr hyn y uffern wnaethoch chi wneud hynny amdano :**** What the hell did you do that for**

**Mae hyn yn fy nhŷ! Ni allwch archebu mi o gwmpas! Dwi ddim fel yr wyf os gwelwch yn dda :**** This is my house! You can not order me around! I do as I please**

**I've made a decision: I am no longer requiring an amount of reviews until the next chapter. As long as you guys continue to review, and get me to one hundred before the end. ;)**

**Thanks everyone for the reviews and alerts. Love to everyone!**


	15. Forever and Ever

**So to those of you who had faith in me still getting reviews without asking, you were right. I got more than I have for any chapter to far, I believe. I haven't gotten any for Slowly Searching yet though, so I won't be updating that one yet. But I'm really glad that mostly everyone seems to believe in my writing ability. You have no idea how happy that makes me. :'D**

**I'd like to dedicate this to brandibuckeye, who has reviewed, I think, every chapter since the beginning. Thanks so much for always letting me know how I'm doing, and sticking with me from the start. :)**

**Time for unintended musical advertisement: the song used below is called "Iris" and (as it says), it's by the Goo Goo Dolls. It is without a doubt one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard, and I definitely recommend it to everyone! (:**

_"I'd give up forever to touch you 'cause I know that you'd feel me somehow. You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't wanna go home right now. All I can taste is this moment, and all I can breathe is your life. Sooner or later it's over. I just don't wanna miss you tonight. And I don't want the world to see me 'cause I don't think that they'd understand. When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am."-The Goo Goo Dolls_

*+*Tristan*+*

When I talked to her last night, I'd said more than I had to anyone in a long time. The only time I ever spoke so much was in my reports to Arthur, and that wasn't just a conversation. I don't know why I decided to tell her so much about the men. Maybe it was because a part of me I tried to stifle missing them, or maybe it was because I found it harder to deny her anything whenever I looked at her. Hell, I'd even let her convince me to take a bath! No woman had forced me to bathe since my own mother reigned over me.

Currently I was resting against a tree while she attempted to bathe both horses at once. We'd ridden to the small stream so she could do so, and to get me used to being in the saddle again. We hadn't talked much, only a few words exchanged here and there on the ride. She'd been attempting to get the horses to settle since then, but after their initial dip in the lake, they hadn't cooperated.

She used a cloth to scrub Isolde's side until Egryn playfully nipped at her hair. When she turned to swat him away, he galloped off and Isolde did as well. She turned, and seemed puzzle by the mare's disappearance. When she noticed her trotting up by a tree about fifteen feet away, she groaned.

"Isolde, come back!" she said, jogging over to her. My horse neighed, and galloped towards Egryn, who bucked happily. He behaved more like a puppy than a stallion.

"You are corrupting her, mister!" she yelled, pointing at her horse. He ducked his head, looking into her eyes innocently.

"Don't give me that cute little look, I am angry!" she growled. His head went lower, and she sighed, shoulders drooping. "Fine, I'm not mad."

The horse threw his mane proudly, and allowed her to finish bathing him. When she instructed him to get in the water, he did. Isolde continued to prance out of her reach challengingly. She'd snort whenever Aderyn would trip or stumble, like she was laughing. I ate my apple unobtrusively with the dagger of Aderyn's that I'd had since I tried to slit her throat. I rolled it in my fingers, examining the hilt. It was littered with little carvings, things that probably only Woads would understand. The blade dull from use, which made it more appropriate for what I was using it for.

"Tristan," Aderyn growled. I looked up, and almost laughed. She was tangled in a bush with her arms stuck in an outstretched position towards Isolde, who was inches from her reach. "Help."

I stood, putting her dagger in the front of my tunic, and pulled the branches of the bush out of her clothing and hair. She fell once she was loose, landing on her stomach. She rolled, and stared past me, at the sky.

"She is your horse. I quit," she said stubbornly.

I whistled, and Isolde trotted up by my side. I finished washing her myself, ignoring the irritated noises Aderyn kept making from the ground.

When I was finished, I clucked my tongue, and Isolde leapt into the river to join Egryn. I shook my head slightly, watching her prance and play around. She was normally never like this, spending all of her time around fellow battle steeds. It was good to see her carefree for once.

"Are you going to help me up, or just leave me here?" Aderyn finally snapped.

"I planned on leaving you there," I said carelessly, not taking my eyes off of our horses.

"Some knight you are," she growled. "What happened to chivalry?"

I turned around, and grabbed her arm. She made a strange noise as I yanked her to her feet, but it froze in her throat when I didn't stop pulling until her chest was pressed against mine. I thought that I was proving a point to her, but suddenly the joke was on me. She was so close that I could smell her: the after-scent of rain. Her dark hair was down for once instead of in the restrictive plait, and it was practically begging me to run my fingers through it. Her eyes were bulging open at me. They were the color of a perfect cloudless sky, and much too innocent for a woman who could fight as well as she could. Her lips were shaped perfectly and parted slightly in surprise from our closeness. Deceitful was the perfect word for her appeal. Her hands were pinned between us; splayed flat on my chest, and making me want things from her that I shouldn't. They were absolutely freezing even though it wasn't too cold out today, but she didn't seem to realize it. I could count every freckle on her nose…

Her eyes suddenly glazed over like someone in deep thought, and she gasped, shoving me away hard. The impact did nothing to me, but she tripped as she scrambled away. Her eyes maintained that faraway look as she pushed herself against a tree, breathing heavily like someone who'd run miles. I watched her contemplatively as she caught her breath, and that look of fear ebbed from her eyes. Was she truly that afraid of me? And why did the possibility that she was bother me so much?

"We should get back," she mumbled, darting past me to get Egryn ready.

I stood there for a moment moment longer, trying to unclench my fists. The thought of her reacting so frightened just because I touched her…it made me feel more like a monster than any amount of killing ever had. I didn't want to scare her. I didn't want to hurt her at all.

What have I gotten myself into?

*+*Aderyn*+*

I gazed at him from across the fire yet again, feeling extremely foolish. It seemed like I could do no right when it came to him. Every time we got close, I screwed it up. Back in the woods, I'd thought that, for a moment…he was going to kiss me. But the worst scenario imaginable happened, and I found myself lost in a flashback.

I didn't want to associate Tristan with them. Tristan would never hurt me like those men did. I did not know him well, in reality, but he would have done so already if he wanted. I'd exposed my vulnerability to him countless times (to my humiliation), so he was very aware of just how easy it would be to hurt me. He could leave me bleeding in a ditch, and it would be days before someone noticed. Only Drenna came for me, and he knew it. I've been damn stupid. Drenna would slap me blind if she knew how much of myself I'd allowed a Roman ally to know.

Well, he wasn't really an ally. He hated them, but he served them. That wouldn't placate Drenna though. Who knew how many of her comrades had fallen by his sword? It was impossible to know. I was fraternizing with the enemy, but I couldn't stop. Whenever he looked at me, something just clicked, and I felt safe and content

But today I'd truly messed up. I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't pushed him away. Now I could never know.

I shuddered at the memory of the violent flashback: those men, one after the other, taking bits of me that I wasn't even aware of yet. Would I always react that way when men were too close? No man would want to have to watch his wife flinch every time he came near her. I'd seen the bewilderment and anger on Tristan's face. It made me realize that he wouldn't be patient enough to put up with all of the things I hadn't overcome yet. Yes, I had feelings for him, but they couldn't go anywhere if he didn't understand.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, and rested my chin on them. I felt more unsure of myself than I ever had. I'd realized more about my own insecurities since he came around than I cared to know. I was so sure that I was over my past as much as I could be, and that I'd overcome the fear. I hadn't. I was just as afraid and haunted as I'd always been. I could never be a whole person. Part of me was buried with the family that was killed before my eyes, and another part was taken by the men that had forcibly bedded me.

I was shaking, and tried to stop the tremors by wrapping my arms so tight around my legs that it became impossible to move. Tristan was completely still, resting back against a log with one knee bent, and staring broodily at the fire. We hadn't spoken since we were at the stream around midday. It was nearing dark now, and I wanted to hear his voice.

Without anything to do, the shaking continued. I picked up my bowl, and stood. Work always got things off my mind. I strode over to Tristan, dropping to one knee to grab his bowl. He moved slowly so as not to frighten me away again, and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. When my eyes met his, he was staring at me blankly. I dropped both bowls unintentionally, and they hit the ground with a thunking sound. The way he held my wrist surprised me: gentle, so unlike any other way he'd touched me so far.

He brought his other hand up towards my collar, and I tensed as he pushed the fabric of my tunic away from my chest. I started to get that violated nauseous feeling that I got when people touched me too intimately. I felt like an animal rejecting instinct as I fought not to run. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. When his fingers traced one section of my skin, I knew what he'd spotted.

"This is not from a superficial wound," he murmured, repeatedly tracing the line of the scar on the right side of my chest, near my collarbone. I trembled again, but from something completely different this time. His hands were making me insane. "What happened to you?"

I pulled away slightly, and he let me, dropping my wrist. I leaned back on my heels, and waited for him to seem impatient again. He didn't. Instead he seemed perfectly intent on sitting there until I answered, and I was actually considering doing so. All I wanted was for him to get that it wasn't his fault that I recoiled earlier. It was the fault of men long gone. Perhaps I could do that with just a small bit of explanation.

"I was only ten winters old," I started, keeping my voice as void of emotion as possible. "I lived in this same place with my mother, father, older brother, and younger sister. I had never ventured more than a few miles from this house, and my father was the only one who ever left the woods. He went to small towns on horseback, mostly to get supplies for us, and he only did it monthly. We disassociated ourselves from Rome and the rebels in order to avoid war. We were alone here, but we were happy." I smiled at the memories of my father's booming laugh, my mother's stories, and playing with my siblings. We were so happy back then.

"One day my siblings and I were playing far away from here when my brother heard war drums." My fists clenched, and I diverted my gaze to my knees. "We told my sister to stay while we ran to get to my parents. I fell, and broke my wrist on the land." I ran my fingers over the strange contortion it held. "When I finally arrived, I hid behind a tree and watched as men pillaged our belongings. My brother was lying on the ground, decapitated. One of them noticed me, and brought me before their leader."

It became a struggle to contain myself, and the tears blurred my vision. The lump in my throat was painful. "I saw my father's body against a tree with an arrow through his heart. The leader mocked me, laughing as I struggled. He kicked me, and my shoulder went out of place awkwardly. I started to hear screams from inside of the house, so I yelled for my mother. The leader gave me to one of his men, and he dragged me inside. I saw one of the men…raping my mother. She cried out for me, but I could not get to her. I was taken to my parents' bedroom…"

I felt rather than saw Tristan tensing like a lion seconds away from attack. I couldn't look at him, not wanting to see the accusations or disgust in his eyes. I might have just changed his whole outlook on me.

"And men came to me, over and over," I continued, voice cracking with effort. "I cannot even count how many times they…I gave up. I did not fight them. I was ready to die. A man came in, and he was quiet but I didn't look at him. I felt pain, and finally looked. It was the leader, and he'd stabbed me." I touched the scar Tristan had just traced. "He left without a word. I passed out, and didn't wake up for a long time. When I did, Drenna was there. She'd heard the barbarians, and came to save me. I was only worried about my sister…Melita." Saying her name hurt like swallowing rocks. "I went to her even though I could barely walk. She was lying on the ground, so I thought she was asleep. I called for her, but she didn't answer. I fell next to her, and rolled her over. There was an arrow in her neck…her eyes were still open."

I couldn't stop the tears now. One fell out, and the dam broke. I wrung my hands, and fought back the wracking sobs. "After that, I did my best to heal. Drenna stayed with me for months, and had to delegate temporary leaders in her absence. They would send messengers to tell her things, but I was afraid of the men, so they had to wait for her outside. I boarded up the doors to the bedrooms because I could not stand the memories they brought, and I was unresponsive for a long time."

I took a deep breath, unsure of how I felt about spilling my secret yet. I continued to keep my eyes away from Tristan. When he didn't speak, I continued. "I did not realize how much I had locked up inside me until you came here. I have been in denial about how many demons still lurk in my head and heart, but I want you to know that it's got nothing to do with you. I don't want you to - I mean I hope you don't think that I am…I mean you-"

He used one of his knuckles to lift my chin so that I was staring sadly into his golden eyes. Tears were still pouring out of mine, and I was relieved he'd stopped my rambling.

"You were only a child," he said lowly, the fury just barely hidden behind the calm facade. "Men who do such things to children are not worthy of your remembrance or your fear. They are worthy of three things: pity, pain, and a hangman's noose."

"I know," I whispered, feeling my eyes grow like they did when I felt uncertain, "but I am afraid to let go."

"Why?"

"My family," I choked out. "I'm not ready to let go of my family."

"They are gone, Aderyn," he said quietly, doing his best not to sound hostile. "I did not know them, but I doubt they would want to see you on your knees, crying about how afraid you are."

My teeth clenched in a furious attempt to stop my tears. He was right. My mother would have been enraged. She hated weak women, which was why she'd wanted my father to start teaching me to fight when I had gained two more winters. I could almost see her shaking her head in disappointment at me: a talented swordswoman blubbering like a fool. How humiliating.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and let out a shaky laugh. "Well you know my secrets now, Sir Tristan. You have tamed me like your hawk."

He shook his head. "My hawk is not tame."

"And I am?" I asked teasingly.

One of his eyebrows rose. "I did not say that either."

I laughed shakily, looking up at the sky. It was dark now, and crying made me sleepy. "Come, let's go inside."

I held out a hand for him, and he allowed me to help him to his feet. When I went to pull my hand away, he gripped it tighter until I looked up at him. Our height difference seemed much more significant at this distance. He could see clearly right over my head, but right now he was looking in my eyes.

"You do not need to fear me," he whispered. "Ever."

"I know," I replied, no hesitation.

We stood there for a few seconds longer until he nodded once, and let go of my hand. I stepped away first, walking back into the house. I found myself beaming at the feeling of weightlessness. My shoulders felt like such a weight was lifted from them. Tristan knew my secrets, but he didn't hate me. I didn't disgust him. This may well have been the best day of my life.

-()-()-()-()-

After all this time, he'd found him. He'd found him in the least expected place possible: with the little Briton who fancied herself untouchable because of Drenna. Oh, how angered he was, but amused at the same time. His eyes scanned their position; she was kneeling at his side and he had his full attention on her. Tears shone on her face from the firelight, and she said something that made the Sarmatian tense up. There was something distinctly protective in his posture, like he was preparing to throw himself in front of an arrow for her. How convenient it was that he'd found love in these lands.

Fists clenched angrily around the tree branch beneath the Woad. He'd been hunting, and not been paying attention to where he was going until he heard voices. He'd lost track of time sitting in the top of this tree, watching the way the little Briton's eyes darted continuously to her companion, and the way he stared at her when she wasn't watching. It infuriated him. The man he wanted to kill had been here all along, as if he were begging to be run through like the vermin he was.

They both stood up suddenly, and then they were so close that the space between them was barely visible. They murmured to each other quietly, words lost on the winds like dust. And then she was walking away, and the knight put out the fire and followed her into the house, closing the door behind her.

Even after it was dark, he stayed outside, mulling over his discovery. So many options were thrown out for him to take, and he wanted to choose the right one; the one that would lead to death of his brother's Sarmatian killer.

He could tell Drenna, but she wouldn't kill him or allow him to be killed. Her fury would be directed at the girl, and he would just be sent along to his men. But what if he refused to leave the girl behind? That was an easy answer as well: Drenna would kill him.

That wasn't an option then. It was blood for blood; his had to be the sword to pierce the flesh of this particular knight.

His other option would be walking right up to the house now and slitting his throat before he could figure out what was happening. It seemed too rash to be effective, and he realized just how foolish it would be. The girl was not some little fairy princess who would sit back and watch; Drenna made sure of that. So it would be two against one: suicide. He could ambush them when they came out tomorrow, but that was, once again, suicide.

His brain turned fiercely over many plans until finally a concrete one was formed in his head. It was perfect, every detail thought out. It had to work; it was foolproof. He grinned as he descended the tree, feeling vengeance within his grasp at last.

**Uh oh. Trouble's a-brewing! I wonder what'll happen next. Oh, right! I already know. ;D**

**I've mapped out the sequel for this, and I've already written the battle on the frozen lake and Badon Hill. So the knights' fates are sealed. I know who's living and who isn't. :P Other than that, I have a few simple scenes written out, all Aderyn/Tristan ones. I'm almost done YTAE, so I'll start the sequel right after I'm done.**

**So review, my loves! :) And thanks for reading!**


	16. The Scars Will Remain

**Sorry guys, but I don't really have time to reply to any reviews this time. I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, and it was spur of the moment so I have tons to do.**

**I won't be updating Slowly Searching before I go because I still haven't gotten any reviews for it, which is disappointing...**

**I'm having trouble writing chapter twenty of this. It's a lot of very raw emotion throughout the whole thing, and I can't channel it for some reason. I'll get there, I promise!**

**But anyway, thanks to my reviewers for this, and I hope everyone likes it. I'll try to update while I'm away, but I don't know if I can. If not, I'll be back in eight days! :)**

_"I can see the patterns on your face. I can see the miracles I trace. Symmetry in shadows I can't hide. I just want to be right by your side. I will give you everything to say you want to stay. You want me too. Say you'll never die. You'll always haunt me. I wanna know I belong to you. Say you'll haunt me. Together, together. We'll be together. Together forever. I belong to you."-Stone Sour_

*+*Tristan*+*

I woke up before her the next day, which was becoming a common occurrence. It was still dark, but I was used to getting only a few hours of sleep. Being a scout didn't provide many opportunities for long sleeping hours.

Aderyn was spread out on her stomach across the makeshift bed, limbs sprawled every which way. She mumbled something into the blankets, made a strange mewling sound, and then turned her head the other way so that her face was blocked by her hair. Time seemed to speed up and slow down as I watched her sleep. It felt like I'd only been watching her for a few minutes, but suddenly rays of daylight were peaking under the door and the sounds of animals starting to flit up about permeated the walls of the small house.

I felt like a fool for sitting here watching a girl sleep. It seemed like some lovesick thing Galahad would do, which made me even more frustrated with myself. This damned woman was making a woman out of me. There wasn't anything special about her at all. She was like a lot of other women: stubborn, unable to realize when to hold her tongue, too curious for her own good…

The thing was that those traits of hers that made her the same to other women I met weren't as vexatious on her as they were on them. If any other female had said some of the things she'd said to me, I would have slit their throats. Instead I just grit my teeth, and bore it. That was what made her different: her effect on me. Just the smallest of gestures from her made my heart feel like it was swelling until it would burst. Like the way she constantly hummed without even realizing it or how she'd speak the Woad language when she was angry or even the way she bit her lip in concentration when she was braiding my hair.

I gritted my teeth as I thought of her confession to me last night. Her family had been murdered by a barbaric tribe, most likely Germanic, and she'd been repeatedly raped and then stabbed. My fists clenched furiously at the idea of any man touching her that way. I'd never felt an urge like that before: a desperation to protect her from anything that could ever hurt her. What I did know was that no one would ever be able to hurt her again. I would sooner shoot myself in the foot than allow harm to come to her.

I stood up. My head was swimming, and I needed some fresh air. I stretched, and was glad to note that I didn't feel a single twinge of pain from the injury. I even moved much easier as I crossed the floor to the entrance.

Conditions were good outside. The sky was cloudy, as usual, but the temperature was neither too cold nor too warm. There was no snow or rain. It would have been ideal for me to leave right now when it was early in the day. I could be back at the Wall at nightfall.

"Morning, sunshine," Aderyn croaked from behind me. I looked over my shoulder. She was leaning against the doorway, hair still sticking up at odd angles and eyes lidded with drowsiness. My heart did the swelling thing again, so I looked away to gather myself.

I heard footsteps, and then she walked around me to the spot where the fire was. She sighed sadly. "I am going to have to cut firewood soon. I hate it. I'm no good with an axe. They are too heavy."

"I'll help," I told her without thinking about it. I could see her from my peripheral, blinking those doe-like eyes at me. I wanted to shake her, and force her to tell me how she'd managed to weasel her way into my head.

"I thought that you would, you know, because your stitches are out and all…" she took a deep breath, "go. Today."

I considered that possibility for a moment. I should leave. I had to. There were months of service to Rome left until I got my dispatch papers, and the men needed a scout. I couldn't stay, but at the same time, I felt like I couldn't leave her alone here.

"No," I replied finally. "Today is not the right day."

"Why not?" she questioned. I should have expected that, but I didn't have an answer. I couldn't just tell her that I wasn't going to leave because of her. I would never be the sort to admit such things.

"It is not the right day," I repeated. Her forehead creased at my cryptic explanation, but she didn't ask again.

"In that case," she said with a grin, "I am putting you to work. The hinge on the stall door is broken."

*+*Aderyn*+*

I was over the moon. He wasn't leaving yet. I was covered nearly head to toe in sweat and dirt, but I couldn't stop smiling.

All day we worked, doing the chores I normally did on my own. He grumbled his complaints a few times, but mostly followed my directions. That surprised me more than him staying. His answer still confused me though. What did he mean it wasn't the right time? What could make it the right time, and how could I prevent it from being so?

I swung the axe at the branch one last time, and it cleaved straight through. I dropped the tool, and picked up the branch, throwing it in the pile with the rest. I would cut them up into smaller pieces tomorrow, which was my least favorite part. It would take hours, and my back always ached for days after.

I picked up my pile of large branches, grunting with the effort, and then swung the axe over my shoulder before starting back to my home.

When I arrived, Tristan was sharpening one of his many daggers, sitting in one of the chairs inside the house. He glanced up at my return, but made no other acknowledgement of my presence. That alone made me smile. He'd treated me no differently since my confession last night, which I took to mean that he still thought of me the same. That was all I could ask for.

I dropped my pile of wood to the ground heavily, and quickly washed off my dirty skin in the wash basin. When I turned around around to pick up a cloth to dry myself with, I tripped and fell flat on the ground. I didn't move, and closed my eyes in embarrassment, praying that he had somehow managed to miss the tumultuous noise I'd just made.

"Learning to sword fight seems pointless when you have the same amount of grace as a drunkard with one leg," he pointed out calmly, continuing to sharpen his sword.

"Just because I am not poised does not mean I'm _that_ clumsy," I argued, lifting myself up to a sitting position so I could glare at him.

"Not necessarily…but you are."

"Well you are…mean," I said lamely. He didn't dignify that with a response, and I was glad, knowing that my comebacks could only get worse from there.

I managed to get the towel without disemboweling myself, and wiped the excess moisture from my skin. I reached behind me, and pulled the leather chord from my hair so that I could plait it again, as it was falling out now. I leaned my head over, and shook my head so that the plait fell out. When I flipped back over, Tristan was watching me with an odd look on his face, almost like he was sick.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. When I was becoming truly concerned for him, he shook his head so that his hair covered his eyes, cleared his throat, stood up with a strangely crooked posture, and walked out with an unusually ungainly gait. I shrugged it off, and quickly braided my hair again.

I had meat left over from last night to make a stew so I brought it outside. Tristan was nowhere to be seen when I lit the fire and started cooking supper, but that was common. I was used to his little disappearing act.

I'd been outside for only minutes when Tristan stalked back into the vicinity, but not in the way I expected. He was soaked from head to toe, including his clothes. The only thing dry was his boots, which were in his hands.

"Did you fall in the river?" I asked.

"Needed to cool off," he grunted, walking right past me and into the cottage. I was bewildered by it all. Did he jump in the water fully clothed just to cool off? That seemed unwise, and out of character.

Awhile later, supper was ready and I started to eat without him. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but I didn't want to walk in on him not wearing anything. Well, I did a little bit, but that would make an awkward situation that I had no idea how to talk myself out of.

Finally he came outside. He was wearing a different pair of breeches and a tunic. I raised an eyebrow at him, not knowing he had other clothes. I suppose I should have checked his saddlebags before deciding that he came with just the one pair, but that seemed like an invasion of privacy.

"You seen a dagger?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. Why?"

"Lost one," he said, dropping to the ground next to me.

He served himself, and we ate in silence. I watched the way his cheekbones seemed even more defined by the firelight. My stomach was turning, and my heart was jumping against my ribcage the more I studied him. He stretched his arms up, and the tunic exposed a patch of tanned, finely toned skin. My cheeks burned.

"Chyfrgolla," I said dreamily. When his eyes darted to me, I looked away, willing him not to have heard the wistful way I said it.

"What did you say?" he asked curiously.

"Nothing," I said hastily. "It's…nothing."

His expression told me he didn't believe me at all, and I thanked any higher power watching over me that I'd spoken the Celtic dialect.

"Say it again," he said suddenly.

"Say what?" I asked.

"Whatever it is you just said."

I looked away embarrassedly. "No, I don't want to."

"Then say something else," he insisted.

I sighed, and said, "Pam yr ydych eisiau i mi ddweud rhywbeth?"

His head cocked to the side. "What did you say?"

"I said 'why do you want me to say something?'," I translated.

"Say it slower," he said.

I sighed, and repeated it. He tried to say it too, but completely butchered the words. I laughed, and tried slower, enunciating each syllable. Eventually he had it perfect, and it sounded incredibly attractive with his accent. I felt dwarfed.

"Let's try something more useful," I said. "Peidiwch â fy lladd, yr wyf yn dod mewn heddwch."

The attempt took longer this time, but he finally repeated it back effortlessly. Although the words sounded good in his accent, it also made it harder for him to articulate the words as I did.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"'Don't kill me, I come in peace'," I explained, biting my lip to hold in my laugh.

He glared. "I would not say that to any Woad," he said darkly. "Or anyone, for that matter."

It got quiet, and I ripped up the blades of dead grass and shredded them between my fingers. I wanted to ask him something, but I doubted it would go over well. Eventually, curiosity won over self-preservation.

"Why not?" I asked quietly. "Do you really think you have so little to live for that you would fight even if you knew you would lose?"

The tension rolling off of him was icy. "It has nothing to do with how little I have to live for," he growled. "It has to do with pride. I bow to no one."

As I stared at the ferocity on his face and the way in which he said it, everything became overwhelming.

"Gallai fi fod yn eich rheswm i fyw," I whispered.

"And what does that mean?" he asked, not looking away from the dying embers of the fire.

"You don't want to know," I replied quietly.

I stood to go back into the house, just wanting to sleep off the headache that was starting to throb between my eyes. But Tristan stood as well, blocking my path into the house. I waited for him to let me know what he wanted, but he didn't seem to want anything in particular. He just let his eyes trail over every detail of my face like he was committing it to memory.

He dug into one of the pockets of his breeches, and took something out. He used both hands to hold it up, and I caught sight of some sort of leather chord with a pendant hanging on it before he put it over my neck. I picked the pendant off my chest, and turned it over in my fingers. It was a small hawk. The details were so intricate that I would have thought it impossible for that level of craftsmanship on something so small. I could see every line in the feathers, and the claws were sharp. The wings were outstretched in flight. The wood was light, driftwood, so I knew this was what Tristan had been carving for the first few days he was here.

I looked up to thank him, but he wasn't there. I smiled into the darkness, feeling like I could fly just like the hawk.

*+*Arthur*+*

The tension between the men was back to being near non-existent, but there was still little conversation. We were all prepared for the journey. At dawn we would leave behind these lands, bad memories, and a fallen comrade. It was one of the most bittersweet thing I'd ever experienced.

It was night now, and we were all sitting around the fire. Galahad was absentmindedly scratching his beard with a thoughtful look. Gawain was next to him with a stack of maps in his hands. He would take Tristan's place as scout now, so he was doing his best to learn the land as much as possible. Dagonet and Bors were the only ones talking, and they were doing so in quiet voices that didn't carry over to me. Lancelot was glaring at the blackness in the surrounding trees like he was expecting an attack.

It seemed unfair that Tristan wouldn't be buried with the other knights. He would have a lonely grave here somewhere or buried with the Briton people he despised, if he even had a grave at all. I didn't want that, but I had no other choice now.

I glanced at the trees across the camp, and my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. A Woad man stood there, fully decked out in the blue paint and battle gear, glaring at us. I stood, pulling out Excalibur and pointing it at him threateningly. The others reacted immediately at my movements, pulling out their weapons and turning to face the man. We all stood there for a few tense moments before he spoke.

"I do not come here to fight, Arturius," he said. His voice jarred me into a familiar memory of the first time I spoke to Drenna. This was the man who'd found me, and taken me to her with an arrow jammed to the back of my neck the entire time. My grip on my sword only tightened at the memory of how hostile he'd been, even when his leader allowed the truce. "I come to talk."

"Say what you came to, then," Lancelot said. The man's eyes flicked to Lancelot boredly, and then went back to me.

"Drenna told you that there is a place in this forest she does not wish you to go," he began. "She would not explain why."

"Is that what you came to say?" I asked. "Because you could have saved yourself the breath and time."

"The reason she forbid this," he continued like there'd been no interruption, "is because there is a girl living in there."

"A girl?" Gawain asked.

"Drenna dotes on her like a daughter even though she is not of our people. She is a Briton, but not Woad."

"I told you!" Galahad exploded, pointing his dagger at me. "I did see a girl, and she was not a Woad!"

I ignored him. "You came only to tell us this? Why?"

He shook his head. "I came to tell you that I know where your friend is."

All of the men tensed, and Dagonet sucked in his breath loudly like he was choking. I didn't react at all, terrified that I'd heard him wrong.

"He is alive," he continued, "but held captive by the Briton. I do not know why she keeps him. She was attacked and brutally beaten when she was young, and I believe it addled her brain. She will most likely attack if you attempt to take him away. She is mad, but that does not mean there should be no repercussions for her actions and I want your comrade out of these lands!"

His voice got angrier and angrier as he spoke. The passionate hate in his voice made me uneasy. He clearly had some sort of connection to this whole thing that made him so spiteful.

"How do we know you are telling the truth?" Bors growled.

The man took something from a pocket in his breeches, and tossed it at my feet. I glanced down. It was a dagger with a black leather hilt and Sarmatian symbols scratched onto the flat side of the blade. I'd seen it many times, and there was no mistaking that it was Tristan's. I could tell the others knew it too when a colorful stream of curse words came from Gawain.

There would be no leaving now.

**Chyfrgolla**:** Damn**

**Pam yr ydych eisiau i mi ddweud rhywbeth: Why do you want me to say something**

**Peidiwch â fy lladd, yr wyf yn dod mewn heddwch: Do not kill me, I come in peace**

**Gallai fi fod yn eich rheswm i fyw: I could be your reason to live**

**So the creepy no-name Woad man is the one that found Arthur in the beginning...awwwww, snap! And for those of you who didn't get it: Tristan jumped in the river because of an...er...hormonal imbalance in a southern region. Hahaha.**

**Sorry to leave you guys in suspense like this! The drama begins next chapter, escalates in eighteen, and then...well, you'll have to read to find out! ;D**


	17. I'm Falling Apart

**Well, hello, my darlings! I've had a reversal of plans. I was staying with my friend Chi Chi and his family at their beach house, but his girlfriend went into labor (there's a lesson kids: wear a condom, or your vacation gets cancelled) so he had to go back. I had a choice to either go home, or stay with my oldest sister and her family because she happened to be staying in the same city (we've been coming to this place since I was three months old). I chose to stay with her, and her hotel actually has internet, unlike Chi Chi's beach house! YAAAAAAY! I should be able to update like I usually do now, but all my updates will be coming late at night...er...maybe not for some of you. For my readers on the east coast of the US, your updates will be coming at around one or two in the morning, lol.**

**I'm sitting on the balcony at our ocean-front hotel room while I'm updating this. I can see, hear, and smell the ocean. I am in fucking heaven. :DDDD Sorry for rubbing it in. ;) Not really though.**

**The second song in this is "So Cold" by Breaking Benjamin. Not mine, sadly.**

**This chapter is dedicated to my friend Chi Chi for being the proud father of seven pound, eight ounce Vanessa Shea. I love you baby boy, and I can't wait to meet your daughter! :D**

_"Can you hear me say 'don't throw me away'? There's no way out. I gotta hold you somehow. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna touch you. You wanna touch me too. Everyday, but all I have this time. Our love's the perfect crime. I wanna, I wanna, I wanna touch you. You wanna touch me too. Every way, and when they set me free. Just put your hands on me. Take everything that I know you'll break, and I give my life away for you."-All-American Rejects_

*+*Aderyn*+*

There was a strange feeling in the air that morning. It seemed that even the forest was anticipating something. The wind wasn't blowing, and it was quieter than usual. I had my hands on my hips, watching my surroundings cautiously. I felt like I had before stumbling upon the knights and Woads fighting all those weeks ago. I truly hoped we wouldn't be attacked.

I realized that I'd just slipped into grouping Tristan and I like he lived here. Well, the way he'd invited himself to stay made it seem like he was. Not that I was complaining in any way. When I woke up this morning and saw him sleeping not a yard away, I'd smiled so big it hurt. I could get used to waking up to him everyday. But it couldn't last. He had a duty to Rome. I wished I had the courage to ask him to return to me when it was over. Would he if I did? I sighed. Tristan was driving me mad.

I walked around to the horse stall, and Egryn greeted me with an excited snort as he bounded over to nuzzle my shoulder with his snout. I smiled, gently stroking his neck with the backs of my fingers. Isolde was eating from the trough, her coat looking much better after the washing Tristan had given her (after my many failed attempts to do the same).

"What do you think of him, pretty boy?" I asked Egryn quietly. "Do you want him to stay?"

He bobbed his head strangely. "Yes? Me too. He is…antisocial. He likes to get a rise out of me, and he tried to kill me. But I would miss him."

Egryn nickered, stamping one of his hooves. I ran my fingers through his mane, thinking over everything. I really had to question why I felt this way about him at all. I was practically fawning all over a man who'd held a dagger to my throat and shoved me into a wall by my neck, nearly strangling me. He was physically attractive, but my heart yearned for him even more than my eyes did.

I questioned whether there was something in me that was craving the closeness of another lost soul like mine. He was missing a home, and I didn't know what it was that I was missing. Was it a heart…maybe an identity? Perhaps I was still looking for that little girl I'd once been, the child who was stripped from me before she had a chance to really live. I'd found something in Tristan that made me feel like none of that stuff ever happened. When he was close, I wasn't just a half anymore.

Gods, I was becoming too sentimental. I needed to do something masculine right away. I left Egryn in the shed, picked up the axe that I'd left against the wall of the house, and walked around to grab the branches from yesterday. I wanted to get this out of the way right away, and it would serve well to get the overly feminine thoughts out of my head.

*+*Tristan*+*

I felt dazed when I woke up the next day, something that didn't happen often. I was aware of where I was and why I was there, but everything seemed so hazy. Aderyn wasn't in her bed, and I could hear singing from outside. I sat up, and rubbed my eyes, looking around blearily. I stood on unsteady feet, and hobbled outside.

She was chopping the firewood haphazardly on a tree stump, the axe flying over her head and landing in the wood with a thwack. I listened to what she was singing, knowing that she sang the most unusual things. This one did not deviate from that.

"_You're so cold. Keep your hand in mine. Wise men wonder while strong men die. Show me how it ends. It's alright. Show me how defenseless you really are. Satisfied and empty inside. Well, that's alright. Let's give this another try. If you find your family, don't you cry. In this land of make-believe, dead and dry. You're so cold, but you feel alive. Lay your hand on me one last time. Show me how_-Oh, for the love of everything above and below!"

I smiled secretly to myself as I watched her try and wrench the axe from the piece of wood it was stuck in. It had stopped her mediocre singing, and she made grunting sounds at the effort it was taking to remove the axe. I took mercy on her, and approached. Before she could protest I took the axe from her hands, put the head on the ground, stepped on the log, and pulled it free.

She cleared her throat obnoxiously, and snatched the axe back. "I could have gotten it."

I took the axe back from her. "Go do something you're good at," I told her, picking up the next branch to start chopping it.

"Are you saying I'm not good at chopping wood?" she asked, outraged. I threw her a baleful look, and she scowled. Eventually she gave in, pointing at me threateningly.

"I am going to the river to wash my hair," she told me ominously, "and if you are not done when I get back, I'm going to help."

She turned away, and I caught sight of the carved hawk I'd given her resting on her chest like it belonged there. I smirked to myself as I chopped the first log off, taking pride in the fact that she wore it. Somehow, I felt safer knowing she had it on. It was like I'd put my mark on her. Any man at the Wall would have thought twice about trying to get under her skirt if they saw it, knowing it was a mark of my possession. That is what it was: I was warning anyone else off. The thought of her with any other man made me want to kill something.

Not that she would need any protection from people at the Wall. She'd probably never leave this stretch of trees, and that bothered me. She'd told me days ago that she wanted to see the ocean, and she never could if she stayed here. She must have other places she wanted to go, things outside of her comfort zone that she wished to experience. I found myself wanting to be the one to help her do that. Suddenly I had a plan in my mind that I hadn't intended to form at all.

I would ask her to return to the Wall with me, platonically, of course. I was not asking her to marry me or be with me in a romantic way. I'd come to the point where I could acknowledge that the things I felt for her were a bit more than friendly, but I doubted I had the capacity to commit to the sort of relationship Bors had invested in. I didn't want eleven bastards and a very angry lover on my tail at all times, but I did want to keep her close to me.

It was settled. I was going to ask her to go to come to Hadrian's Wall with me.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I washed my hair as long as I could. The threat I'd condemned on Tristan was pretty empty. I didn't want to chop wood. I would be thrilled if he was done when I got back. I just didn't want him to think I was so incompetent that I couldn't even chop my own wood.

I climbed out of the river, and quickly dried myself off before putting on a clean tunic and breeches. They were my nicest pair, made of the softest leather. The tunic was a dark green, and I would have been lying if I said I wasn't making an effort to make myself look less dirty. I doubted even Tristan liked an uncleanly woman, so I was trying my best.

At the same time, I felt utterly foolish. Was I actually entertaining the thought that he felt the same as me? Yes. Yes, I was. This could only end badly for everyone involved, namely me.

I smacked myself in the forehead with the palm of my hand. "Come on, Aderyn. Get it together. You are being an idiot."

I took a deep breath, and shook my hair out, deciding to braid it later. I strode back to the camp, still keeping an eye out. The trees were eerily still, and rarely did I hear or see signs of animals. I was questioning whether or not I should check for battles, but hastily realized what a mistake it would have been. Tristan might charge into the fighting, and be revealed to Drenna.

When I came back, he was still chopping wood. I sighed sadly, and brought my things into the cottage so that I could go out to help him. I could feel the hawk pendant swinging from my neck, and touched it gently. I would ask him later what possessed him to give it to me. I loved it, but it just seemed a bit off that one second we were standing and the next he'd put it on me and walked away. Actually, it wasn't so odd for Tristan. Nothing was too odd for him.

I went back out, and reached around to take the axe. He whirled around, and grabbed my arm, jerking it sharply. I yelped as my semi-crippled shoulder throbbed painfully, and he let go. I thrust my shoulder forward to pop it back and glared at him.

"Didn't hear you come back," he admitted. His eyes trailed from my shoulder to my neck, and up to my face.

That's when I realized that he was literally only about three quarters of an inch away from me. He had to tilt his head down to see me properly, as I only came up to about his nose. He was a bit sweaty from wielding the axe, but it just made him seem more attractive in a rugged way. He took another step forward, and my breath left me. He leaned over, and I heard him breathe in.

"You smell like rain," he informed me.

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I didn't speak. I stared at his tattoos and wanted to touch them. My hand twitched towards him, but I quickly stifled the movement. He couldn't say the same though, as his hand came up and touched the feather tattoo at the side of my neck. And then he was closer, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I was an abnormally cold being, and the sudden contact with heat made me shiver. I wanted to reach out to him, put my arms around him.

Without even thinking about it, I stood on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his. The instant I realized what I'd done, I pulled away with a thunderstruck expression.

"I am so…_sorry_!" I mumbled. "I didn't mean to! I was…you are…bye."

I turned on my heel, and started to stride away. I felt close to tears at the amount of humiliation, but then I could hear footsteps behind me.

He grabbed me, spun me around so fast that I almost fell, grabbed the back of my head roughly, and yanked me to him until our lips met again. The second the kiss was initiated, it was like primal instinct. His other hand grasped at the fabric at the lower back of my tunic, and my hands trapped his face between them. My heart exploded, but I couldn't think straight. All there was in the world was him and me and a scalding heat. The way we molded together was like we'd always been doing this. He bit my bottom lip purposefully, and I gasped, which was just what he wanted. His tongue entered my mouth, and my knees started to shake. His hand had slipped beneath the fabric of the tunic, and was splayed across the skin of my lower back, burning it like hot coals.

I made a sound in the back of my throat that I hadn't meant to, and he pulled away, but only the smallest bit. He kept his eyes closed, but I didn't want to leave mine shut anymore. I took in every inch of his face, and finally ran my thumbs over the tattoos I'd been dying to touch only seconds before. The hand that was holding hard to the back of my hair loosened slightly, but didn't let go. I could have stayed like that forever. Everything about the moment was perfect.

He finally opened his eyes, and leaned further away from me. I had to practically do a backbend to see his face, and I laughed at the thought.

"Why are you laughing?" he asked. His voice was much deeper than usual, and extremely gravelly. My stomach clenched.

"I feel like a dwarf," I told him. One corner of his mouth lifted, and he came back down to kiss me once, much quicker than our previous encounter. When he was standing straight again, he touched the hawk around my neck, and said something in Sarmatian. I didn't ask him what it meant, knowing he wouldn't tell me.

I wanted to ask him so many things. What did that all mean? Was it just a fleeting kiss, or was there more to it? If there was more, would he still leave me here? Would he go back? Should I go with him? Was his heart singing too?

We had time to deal with the serious stuff later. Right then, I just wanted to revel in this. My heart was agreeing with my decision immensely.

Egryn suddenly let out a panicked whinny so loud that I jumped in fright. Tristan narrowed his eyes, gazing over my head towards the stable behind the house. I pulled away, feeling his reluctance as he held onto me a few seconds longer.

"I have to check on him," I said. "It's probably a spider."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your horse is afraid of spiders?"

"Do you know anyone who isn't afraid of spiders?" I scoffed. He pointed to himself, but I rolled my eyes.

"I'll be back," I promised, turning to go to the horses. My smile was so wide it hurt, and I thought surely that you would be able to see my heart glowing through my chest. I'd finally kissed him, and it was even better than I could hope. Nothing could ruin this day. Nothing.

*+*Arthur*+*

We knew what we had to do. It would be dangerous, but it was the only solution. To go and get Tristan would mean breaking the treaty and setting the whole of the Woads after us, but there was no other option. Tristan was a captive, and I wasn't leaving without him.

Saddled, packed, and armed, the men and I rode in a line around the edge of the woods, pretending to just be leaving. Our infiltration of the embankment would have to be quick otherwise we might not have time to grab Tristan and go before we were attacked. We wanted as little bloodshed as possible. If the girl that had him was as crazed as the Woad man had let on, then she would have to die because I doubted she would let him go without a fight.

Once the embankment was in sight, I glanced over my shoulder. Lancelot was directly behind me. At my glance, he nodded. I turned, and spurned my horse into a gallop, charging for the thicker trees. I heard the others following me, as we galloped further and further. Eventually we stopped in order to tie up the horses so we could make our approach on foot.

"It should not be much farther," I told them as I unsheathed Excalibur and started forward. "Keep quiet, and remember: get Tristan and get out." They all nodded, and we spread out, walking towards the trees on quick and silent feet.

It wasn't long before the trees started to thin out, and then I could see a small house up ahead. There were no windows or doors that I could see, and there was a smaller structure behind it in which I could see a black horse with a white mane.

"That is the horse the girl I saw was riding," Galahad breathed. I clenched my hand tighter around my sword.

There was more movement next to the black horse, and another horse suddenly came into view. It was dapple gray, and very familiar.

"Isolde!" Lancelot growled. I nodded, and then looked to Gawain.

"Go in the stable," I commanded. "Get his horse and any of his belongings that you see."

The blond man nodded, and ran noiselessly across the exposed land. When he opened the stall, the black horse neighed deafeningly, and reared a bit. Gawain tried to calm him. I gestured at the men to spread out, trying to asses the layout of the place. I didn't have enough time for a lot of preparation, but I wasn't foolish enough to charge into unknown territory completely unprepared. This could be an ambush for all we knew.

Before we could fully circumvent around the area, a girl appeared. All of the men froze except for Galahad, who started waving his arms wildly to get Gawain's attention, but he didn't see. Neither did the girl, thankfully. She was rather small, which I wasn't expecting. She clearly wasn't helpless though, as there was a sword strapped to her hip, and the outline of a dagger in her boot. She wore breeches and a tunic, which was unusual for a woman, and her dark hair was wet and hung down to her mid-back. She didn't look menacing or mad (except for the huge smile on her face), but there could be no chances taken.

Gawain finally noticed Galahad, who pointed wildly to the corner and mimed that the girl was approaching. Gawain let go of Isolde's reigns and slunk into the shadow of the stall.

When her back was turned as she unlatched the door to see to her horse, I put my hand up and flicked my fingers forward. I raised my sword to a defensive position, getting ready to sneak up on her and end her before she even had a chance to think about what was happening.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I was over the moon after the kiss with Tristan. I wasn't sure what it would mean for our already fragile sort-of-friendship, but I was going to relish in this moment in case it ended in disaster.

I unlatched the door of the horse stall. Egryn had interrupted mine and Tristan's moment with a fearful neighing, so I turned to him donning a big smile.

"What's wrong, you sissy?" I asked him playfully. "Another spider?"

Before I saw him, my neck startled to prickle insanely. I turned my head a fraction of an inch, and my breathing hitched in fear. A man stepped out of the shadows. He was about as tall as Tristan, had long blond hair and a beard, was clearly muscular enough to snap me in half over his knee like a stick, adorned in armor, and had a sword drawn, pointed at me. His eyes flashed with rage, and my fight or flight instinct kicked in. I whipped around to run, but froze when I saw a group of more men running towards us.

I did the only thing that seemed logical at the time: withdrew my sword, sucked in a deep breath, and screamed.

"_TRISTAN_!"

**So I know what you're thinking. You loved me in the beginning, but now you hate me for my cliffhanger. I know, I know. I'm sorry. But I wouldn't have updated this if I wasn't sure that I could put the next chapter up soon. How soon all depends on you guys and your reviews. ;D So get going! Haha.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and alerts! You guys are the most awesome readers I could ever ask for! I love you all! :'D**


	18. Leave Me Here

**Hello darlings. I don't know if I told my readers for this one (I'm getting confused with my A/N's for Slowly Searching and this one), but I got flamed for making Tristan talk too much and making him too emotional. I discussed it with my reviewers in Slowly Searching more, but basically I don't really think that there's much of a problem with the way I've written Tristan. If you think so, feel free to let me know (in a calmer and more civilized way, preferably). :) Everyone is always welcome to let me know what I'm doing wrong, not just what I'm doing right!**

_"So this is it, the feeling that I've missed. A subtle kind of pain that keeps me from sleep. Try to explain how your touch drives me insane, and I can't spend a night without wishing I was with you. Wanna tell you a secret, and leave it on your lips. Wanna sing it through your body. Wanna tell it through this kiss. If I told you my secret, would you swear to keep it? Would you swear to keep it?"-Asteria_

*+*Tristan*+*

I couldn't describe how I felt. It was a mixture of ecstasy and anger directed at myself. It was like I had reached the stages of drunkenness that only Galahad and Bors had ever achieved. I didn't know which emotion to act on.

The ecstasy could be easily explained: I'd just kissed Aderyn. I'd never felt like that when I kissed a woman, not even when I was a hormonal teenager getting my first sloppy kiss in the stables. It felt like the world fell away, and she took over. The only other time I felt such a thing was when we were in battle, and I would let the pure animal instinct take over, killing whoever dared step in my path. This was not like that, fueled by something completely different, but it still had the same effect and left me with the same shaky feeling.

The anger was less obvious, but explainable. I shouldn't have assaulted her like that. I knew her only experience being physical with men was less than warranted. It was stupid of me to launch into it like that. There was no room for regrets though, and now I had absolutely no doubt that she would come with me when I asked her. The smile she'd tried to hide when she turned away answered that question for me.

"_TRISTAN_!"

Her bloodcurdling scream echoed all over the clearing, seeming to jump back at me from every direction. My blood ran cold at what that could mean, and I sprinted into the house to grab my sword.

*+*Aderyn*+*

The blond man behind me grabbed a handful of my hair, and pulled me backwards. I elbowed him in the side of the head, and he let go with a yell of pain. I turned, swiping at him. A screeching sound met my ears as I scratched a thin line down the front of his armor. If he hadn't leapt back, I would have gutted him. He glared, and I prepared to swing again.

Before I could, the door of the stall slammed against the opposite wall, and somebody twisted my wrist painfully until I dropped the blade. They pulled me against their body, holding a dagger against my throat from behind. The blond was sneering at me evilly as the others filed in.

All of them were looking to one man like they were waiting for something. I kept my eyes on that one, and he looked only at me as well. His hair was brown and wavy, cut close to his head. He had some stubble on his face, and bright green eyes. I focused on only his face, wriggling in the grasp of the man restraining me. I kicked at the leader, teeth bared angrily, but he was too far away. I clawed at my captor's hands, but he didn't let go.

The leader's green eyes flicked to the person behind me, and he nodded regretfully. The dagger pressed against my throat harder, and I knew what would happen next.

Everything was suddenly different in only a quick flash of movement. Tristan had lunged past the men at the door, shoving them out of his way like they were saplings he was trying to walk past. His fist lashed out, catching whoever was seconds away from killing me in the mouth. He yelped, and fell backwards. Tristan twisted us so that I was stuck between him and the wall, and wielded his sword at them. My throat burned from the cut left behind, and I could feel blood trickling down my chest.

Tristan's tensed posture suddenly relaxed, and his sword fell to his side instead of being pointed at the trespassing men. I peeked around his shoulder, and they all looked absolutely befuddled. The one who'd almost killed me scrambled back to his feet, and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"Tristan?" he asked incredulously.

"How did you find me?" Tristan asked. Even he sounded mystified.

"A Woad!" the same man explained. "He told us you were being held prisoner by a lunatic!"

"Lunatic?" I shouted, shoving Tristan out of my way. I pointed at the man threateningly. "I am not a lunatic! _You_ are the one that barged in here and tried to slit my throat, you bastard!"

They all looked even more dumbstruck now. Tristan grabbed my shoulder to turn me a bit, and held something to my throat to stem the blood flow. I glared over my shoulder at the men.

"I suppose these are the other knights you spoke so highly of," I said to Tristan venomously, realizing that they were vaguely familiar and their armor was foreign. He nodded.

"What the hell happened to you?" another of the men yelled. He was the roundest of them all, bald, and had a thin scar on the top of his head.

"No time for explanations now," the leader said hastily. "We have to go."

Tristan didn't ask, he just cocked an eyebrow at him with his hand still held to my throat.

"Woads will come," he explained immediately. "We were not supposed to come here, but we did so we could rescue you."

"What do you mean you weren't supposed to come here?" I asked curiously.

*+*Arthur*+*

I'd come across a lot of odd things since becoming the commander of the Sarmatian knights, but this was by far the strangest situation I'd ever been in. Me, my six remaining men, two horses, and a strange forest-dweller were all packed into a single-horse stable, discussing Woads. On top of that, Tristan was helping said forest dweller, and acting as if this was completely normal.

"Their leader said…," I froze, eyes trained on the girl's neck. There was a tattoo on the side, uncovered by Tristan's hand: an intricate depiction of a black feather. I'd seen it once before, on the hipbone of a female warlord. It was her signature. Everything clicked into place, and all of my questions got an answer with only this one revelation.

"You are the reason Drenna told us we could not come here," I said. She continued to keep her bewildered stare on me, but Tristan's eyes flicked between us all.

"She told you not to come here?" she asked. "Wait, why was she talking to you?"

"When Tristan went missing, we stayed behind to look for him," I explained quickly. "She granted us a month long truce in order to search for his body." Tristan's eyes narrowed. "She said the one place we could not go was beyond the embankment because something important to her was there. You are the reason."

She started to gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing rapidly. Her eyes looked over us all, finally freezing on Galahad.

"I saw you!" she said suddenly, turning to face us completely so that Tristan's hand fell from her neck, which continued to bleed freely. "You were gesturing like a fool! I thought you were mentally deficient."

Gawain guffawed, Bors cackled, and Galahad scowled. "Because you weren't speaking English!"

Her face fell. "Oh. I thought I was."

"Quiet!" Tristan suddenly commanded, holding up a hand to stop anyone from speaking. In the silence, we all heard the sound of many pairs of feet running towards us. Lancelot's eyes widened, and Dagonet pulled out his long sword.

"Prepare for combat," I commanded grudgingly, exiting the stall. I wanted to avoid this, but it was too late now. They were approaching from the other side of the house. When I turned to walk around that way, I saw Tristan staring down sternly at the girl.

"Stay here," he demanded, over-articulating like that would make the message sink into her head. Before she could say anything else, he came with us. We nodded at each other, and rounded the house.

There was a small clearing in the front with the remnants of a fire pit close to the door of the small house. The army of Woads wasn't very large, but definitely enough to easily decimate us. All of the knights' bows were with the horses, so we waited with blades drawn.

Drenna was at the front of her people. Her eyes bore the brunt of her fury, and they seemed to blaze a trail straight to us. She screeched something in her language and some of the men stopped where they were, beginning to shoot at us with commendable skill.

The others dodged and ducked to avoid them, and I held up my sword so an arrow would bounce off the blade instead of imbedding itself in my right leg.

"STOP!"

The scream came from behind us, and suddenly the girl was sprinting past us to stand yards in front of us, waving her arms crazily at the approaching army. She didn't seem at all concerned with the arrows being rained down on her. Tristan cursed, and lunged forward to try and pull her back.

"YN DOD I BEN TÂN!" Drenna bellowed, waving her arms in a rhythmic motion so that the Woads skidded to a halt only yards from us. "YN DOD I BEN TÂN!"

The arrows stopped raining down, and Drenna walked forward with shock on her face. Her eyes took in Tristan's firm hold on the girl's arm and the protective stance he had over her, and her expression changed to wounded.

"Beth sy'n mynd ymlaen, Aderyn?"

*+*Aderyn*+*

The look on her face was like a knife in my heart. I'd committed the ultimate betrayal, and I hadn't realized it until I'd seen the look in her eyes. The Woads behind her all looked murderous, eyes staying locked on the knights behind me. Tristan was holding my arm so tightly that it hurt a little. Everything seemed to stop at her question. We both knew the answer.

"I could not let him die," I told her. I doubted anyone besides me, her, and Tristan heard my quiet voice.

She looked at Tristan as if she'd never seen anything so threatening in her life. Her sword hung limp at her side, the symbols on the blade catching the light and shining menacingly.

I don't know what would have happened next if no one had intervened. Maybe she would have screamed at me, hurling accusations and insults. Perhaps I would have run to her and hugged her as tightly as I wanted to, sobbing my apologies into her shoulder. There were so many possibilities, but I would never know.

A man broke from the lines with an axe raised over his head, screaming a battle cry. He charged at Tristan and me. He pushed away from him as he engaged the man, trying to get me out of the line of fire. Drenna's eyes blackened with anger as she laid eyes upon the disobedience of one of her soldiers. The man attacked with a ferocity that wasn't really necessary for the situation. Tristan's forehead wrinkled in confusion.

So many things happened in only a few seconds. The man seemed to be using his rage to get the upper hand in the fight, and Tristan let out a snarl. Drenna had taken a step forward at the same time, raising her sword. I knew she would not have done anything to Tristan. Her only intention was to stop the fight. But suddenly there was a twang and a whizzing sound, and then an arrow struck her in the chest.

My whole world stopped, but everything kept in motion. The Woad army let out an outraged roar at the unjustified attack against their leader. Drenna grasped the area around the wound where blood was starting to seep through. I turned around and saw the one with the intricate curly hair, trim beard, and cold brown eyes holding my bow. He killed my last remaining family with my own weapon.

The Woads started to charge, but Drenna raised her arm and they froze.

"Peidiwch â ymosodiad! Dan unrhyw amgylchiadau!" she wheezed. Even though she was in this weakened state, they all listened immediately. Her eyes moved to the man who attacked Tristan. They'd stopped fighting, and were both looking at her. She sneered at him, and he recoiled. "Back down." He did so immediately, retreating back to the army. I was so busy looking at Drenna, I didn't even notice the calculating sneer he fixed on me.

She fell to her knees, one hand bracing herself on the ground. Someone let out the most anguished scream I'd ever heard. With a start, I realized it came from me.

I raced towards her, tripping and falling close to her. I scrambled on my hands and knees, and finally pulled her into my lap.

"Drenna!" I gasped, tears streaming from my eyes. "Drenna, I am sorry! I should not have done it, I'm sorry!"

She actually smiled at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. "Shhh," she cooed. "It is alright. I know."

She was dying, but ended up comforting me. I scrambled to rip a piece from the bottom of her tunic, pushing it to the wound. She winced, but shoved my hand away.

"No need for that, child," she said seriously. "My time is up."

"NO!" I screamed, trying once again to stem the blood. She pushed me away, but even within seconds she was too weak to push my hand very far.

"Don't," she said sternly. "You will only make this harder on yourself with denial."

"I cannot lose you too," I told her brokenly, voice cracking.

"You won't," she promised, smiling. "I will always be with you, as your family is." I shook my head vehemently, but she held my chin in one hand. "Do not let your losses take over you."

Some blood trickled from the corner of her mouth and down her left cheek. I wiped it away, and she smiled.

"Fi'n caru ti, ychydig o un," she said quietly. Before I could reply, her eyes closed, and she was still.

*+*Tristan*+*

The Woad woman died in Aderyn's arms, and her whole body was trembling with grief. The silence was louder than any battle I'd ever heard. I wanted to go to her and hold onto her like I had earlier; anything to give rid of the devastation etched on her face.

She let out a strangled sound, and then her body was wracked with rough sobs that tore at my chest like savage claws. Like it was the cue they'd been waiting for, a few Woads stepped forward. This time Lancelot had the sense not to shoot anyone. One of the women started to speak rapidly in her dialect to Aderyn with a nasty look on her face. When she just continued to wail, the woman pointed her sword in her face. I raised mine to her threateningly, but she ignored me.

Aderyn stood up, and took two steps back. Two men behind the woman picked their leader's body up between them, and edged back the way they came. The woman closest to us continued to point her sword at Aderyn, who didn't seem bothered by it at all. She yelled something to the army, and they listened to her. I guessed she must have been second-in-command for them to obey her so readily.

As they all turned to go, she switched from her native language. "I do not attack because I will honor my commander's last wish," she said maliciously. "If that were not the case, I would kill you here for what you have done."

Aderyn didn't seem to hear that, but she definitely heard the next thing. "You no longer have our protection. Drenna's blood is on your hands, Briton."

Aderyn shrieked and covered her ears immaturely, letting out a series of loud sobs. The woman left without another word.

The only sound for nearly a minute was Aderyn's continuous cries of pain. Time seemed to drag on. She had a large amount of blood on her front and on her hands, but she didn't seem to notice anything.

I took the few steps forward, and stood before her, gently tugging her hands from her ears. She continued to sob helplessly, but she looked up. Through her watery gaze, she stared at me like she was completely lost. I felt like someone was stabbing me repeatedly in the stomach.

Something clicked in her eyes suddenly, and the tears stopped. The way her jaw tensed worried me.

She spun out of my grip, and strode towards Lancelot.

"Dagonet!" I said quickly.

He caught her around the waist just as she launched herself at Lancelot as if to tackle him. Her arms continued to reach for him, her hands extended yearningly towards his face. Her fingers were curved like claws, and I realized Lancelot's face would have been severely scarred if Dagonet didn't have a hold on her.

"Plentyn gordderch!" she shrieked, still reaching for him while her legs tried to kick Dagonet away from her. "Ffieiddiaf llofrudd! Hi ddim yn ddim i haeddu hynny! Byddaf yn eich lladd chi, ac yn bwydo eich esgyrn i'r fwlturiaid!"

Lancelot looked taken aback by the whole situation. He looked at me like he was asking for an explanation, but I had no idea how to tell him what was going on. He'd just killed the only mother figure she'd had since she was a child, the woman who had saved her life.

She stopped screaming, and slumped in Dagonet's grip. He just managed to catch her before she fell face first to the ground. She pushed him away, and stumbled towards the back of the house, completely ignoring everyone. Gawain leapt out of her way when she nearly ran him over, and Lancelot had been slowly edging away since she was released.

"Aderyn," I called. She whipped around, hair flying wildly.

"Leave!" she demanded. "I want all of you to get as far from here as possible!"

She walked to the stables, and it wasn't long before I heard galloping; the sound of Egryn carrying her away from me.

**YN DOD I BEN TÂN**:** Cease fire (literally translates to 'fire is coming to an end')**

**Beth sy'n mynd ymlaen, Aderyn: What is going on, Aderyn**

**Peidiwch â ymosodiad! Dan unrhyw amgylchiadau: Do not attack! Under no circumstances**

**Fi'n caru ti, ychydig o un: I love you, little one**

**Plentyn gordderch: Bastard (literally 'illegitimate child')**

**Ffieiddiaf llofrudd! Hi ddim yn ddim i haeddu hynny! Byddaf yn eich lladd chi, ac yn bwydo eich esgyrn i'r fwlturiaid: Disgusting murderer! She did nothing to deserve that! I will kill you and feed your bones to the vultures**

**...Please don't hate me.**

**I promise that there are good reasons for that! No, really!**

**Just a warning: the chapters are going to get a bit shorter after this for about four or five chapters. I had the choice to either jam the content into longer, cramped updates or space it out. I chose to space it. So yeah, shorter chapters. :P They're all over 2,500 words though, so don't freak. Haha.**

**Well, you know I love my reviews, so click that beautiful button below. :) Please and thank you!**


	19. Forever In the Dark

**I got time to update because my family went to play mini golf, and I didn't feel like it, so now I'm getting some peace and quiet. **

**An eighteen year old guy went swimming in the ocean right in front of my hotel, and now he's been missing for almost four hours. They think he drowned. I've been watching everything that's going on from the balcony. It's horrible. His family must be devastated.**

**But thanks to those of you who reviewed and all! I love getting feedback. :D Hope you guys keep it coming.**

_"Everything's so blurry, and everyone's so fake. And everybody's empty, and everything is so messed up. Preoccupied without you, I cannot live at all. My whole world surrounds you. I stumble then I crawl. You could be my someone. You could be my sea. You know that I'll protect you from all of the obscene. I wonder what you're doing, imagine where you are. There's oceans in between us, but that's not very far. Can you take it all away, can you take it all away? When you shoved it in my face, explain again to me. Everyone is changing. There's no one left that's real. So make up your own ending, and let me know just how you feel. 'Cause I am lost without you, I cannot live at all."-Puddle of Mudd_

*+*Tristan*+*

I retrieved all of my possessions, saddled Isolde, and rode away with the knights. No Woads confronted us, but I felt their eyes on our backs as we loped away from the forest that I'd occupied for nearly a month.

It was quieter than normal. Usually most of the other knights would banter back and forth, most of the jokes rather crude. They were all stoic now, matching the mood I was in. Lancelot's eyes kept darting to me, and I wanted to punch him until he decided it was safer not to look at me anymore. I blamed him for everything that had happened, with good reason. It was his fault that she was hurt, his fault that she'd ran. She was further away from me than she'd ever been now, mentally. Not even an hour ago I was kissing her, and now I'd had a part in breaking her down yet again. Never had I loathed myself more, not even after my first kill.

Arthur didn't ask me to scout, but when I rode ahead, no one objected. I needed to be away from them. I'd thought that our reunion would have been more relieving than this, rather than wanting to get away from them the moment I was back in their presence. Aderyn changed things though. She'd altered more than she knew.

I kept my eyes and ears pricked for any sign of a threat, but there was none. The Woads were letting us go because they wanted us to get as far from them as possible…just like Aderyn.

I grimaced, trying to shove her from my head. Clearly whatever connection we'd had was severed now. I knew I should feel freed or relaxed now that I was back to scouting. It was my niche, but now it felt strange. I felt less of an obligation to my duty, less desire to get these months over with in order to get my discharge papers. It seemed meaningless now. What could I do with freedom?

My hawk cried from above me, and I held out my arm without looking up. She landed there, digging her sharp talons into my armor. Her eyes bore into me almost accusingly, like she knew everything that just occurred.

"Have you seen her?" I asked the bird. "Is she safe?"

The bird screeched again, almost lazily, letting me know that she was fine wherever she'd run to. I looked back to the trail before me.

She cried out again, and I looked at her. She bobbed her head back towards where we'd come, hopping impatiently up and down my forearm.

"We can't go back," I told her. "She does not want us there anymore."

She continued to hop incessantly until she got the message that I wasn't going to turn around. She took flight, digging her talons into me unnecessarily hard as she did so. I glowered at her as she took to the sky.

I didn't need a bird to tell me. I knew I'd screwed up.

*+*Arthur*+*

When Tristan rode ahead, I said nothing. I knew that look in his eyes, and acknowledged that he wanted to be far from us at the moment. He'd been the first to leave once the girl fled (I believe Aderyn was her name), and had not said a word since. The others barely spoke, even after he was gone. Lancelot looked regretful for once, but from the way the girl reacted, I doubted any of us truly knew just how much of an effect the death of the Woad had on her.

We followed the trail for hours, keeping a steadily quick pace in order to return as fast as possible. Tristan didn't return, and I briefly wondered if he'd just ride on to the Wall without us. He seemed increasingly unpredictable. What had happened since we were separated from him?

Lancelot came up next to me, and I waited for him to speak. He tried to seem nonchalant, but I knew him better than he cared to realize.

"I did not know," he said lowly. "I thought she was going for Tristan."

I shrugged. "You had no way of knowing, Lancelot."

A pregnant pause followed, and I knew he hadn't got it all off his chest yet.

"She was not holding him prisoner," he said.

"No," I agreed. "I do not think he was there against his will."

"Do you think he was…_involved_ with her?" he asked poignantly.

I pondered that, and an image of him clutching a cloth to her throat so she'd stop bleeding appeared in my head. I lingered on his eyes, and the intensity with which they rested on her. It was not an empty look, that was for sure. And even though he wasn't being particularly gentle with her, it was the most tender I'd ever seen him be with another human being. He saved all of that for his animals before.

"I do not know," I finally said. "Tristan will tell us in his own time."

Lancelot nodded, but I doubted I'd put his mind more at ease.

*+*Tristan*+*

I rode back to them when we were only a few miles from the Wall, and gave Arthur a report lacking in my usual intricate detail. He thanked me, and I tried to ignore the scrutiny in his eyes. All of them were looking at me like they expected me to lose my control at any moment, and that was the very thing that was making me feel like I would.

We dismounted in front of the keep, as usual, and I handed my reins to Jols. Arthur told us to be at the Round Table in an hour, and I strode off quickly before any of the men could try to catch my attention. I saw Lancelot's mouth open to call me back, but I quickened my pace. I went straight to my room, and shut the door behind me.

When we came from Sarmatia, we were each given a room at the Keep. Since then, the men had turned those small rooms into a semblance of their homes, leaving things around that let you know it was theirs before you even saw them enter it. My room, on the other hand, barely looked lived in. I'd done my best not to spread out too much in the beginning, not wanting it to feel like home. I hated Briton with a burning passion in those days, resenting the land itself for taking me from Sarmatia instead of the Romans who actually did. When my hate turned to the Romans, my decision to not make my room homey was an act of defiance, in a way. I was telling them in my silent way that they would never have my allegiance. I was always ready to leave at a moment's notice.

The dwelling was small, but much larger than the rooms at the barracks. The bed was against one wall with a nightstand on either side. There were two windows next to each other on the opposite wall, and a trunk at the end of my bed that I kept my weapons in. Next to a small wash basin was a stand in the corner that I used for my armor, and a lumpy bag that I kept all of my clothes in. There was a dresser pushed against the wall across from the bed, but I'd never used it. A small table and two chairs were positioned beneath one of the windows, and the curtains were drawn so that only two slivers of light infiltrated the darkness.

Despite all of my attempts, this room was one of the only places within the fort that I felt comfortable in. It was solitary and quiet, which was rare around here. But now, it seemed terribly empty and cramped. I had become accustomed to always having nature right there when I opened the door. Now it was only visible from my window, a far-off taunting. There was also no loudmouth Briton girl trying to plait my hair, yelling at me to bathe, or fretting over whether or not I was feverish.

I took my sword from my back, and tossed it in the open trunk at the foot of the bed. Removing my armor alone was a feat, but I managed it. I set it up properly at the stand, thinking of the crazed Woad who'd attacked me. I could see in his eyes that whatever reason he'd went for me was personal. He could have attacked any of them, but he went for me. I would never know why, but I didn't care either.

I removed my tunic, and then lowered myself onto the corner of my bed. For a long time I just stared at the floor, lost in memories of the last day I spent as a willing captive. I tried to define the moment when everything went wrong, when it all changed for the worst. I couldn't pinpoint it, but there were a few possibilities. I wanted someone to blame for what occurred, but there was no one except myself. I should have left that night she confronted me in the stables. I'd even been on the damned horse. Why didn't I just go?

It was her. Everything I'd done for nearly a month came back to her. At first it was intrigue, a question of why she secluded herself from everyone. Then it became fascination, which had inevitably led to infatuation. I had no choice but to admit it now: the bloody woman captivated me.

With all of the little bit of selflessness I possessed, I wished I'd left her. No amount of fleeting happiness I'd experienced when I kissed her was worth what I caused today. Lancelot would not have killed Drenna if they didn't feel the need to run after me into the woods. If I hadn't stayed, she would probably be with the woman now instead of feeling the pain of loss yet again.

I stood up and splashed my face with the freezing water in the basin. One of the plaits dropped in front of my eyes like fate was trying to draw her back into my mind. She was like a cancer spreading throughout every single one of my organs. I growled to myself, and started to scrub my arms and torso vigorously.

When I was finished, I pulled on a fresh black tunic from the canvas bag, and started towards the round table room. It would be awhile before the meeting, but I had nothing else to do.

When I walked in, it was eerily silent. I sat in my designated chair, and stared around at the familiar area. I'd memorized every grain of the granite walls, every crack in the stone floor, and knew the perfect shadows where someone could hide themselves. I observed those now even though I knew that anyone was hiding in here. There was no reason to; there was no meeting yet. But wasn't that just what I was doing: hiding?

I pulled my dagger from the waistband of my breeches, and started to stab shapes into the arm of my chair. The knife felt unfamiliar in my hand, so I examined it.

It wasn't mine. It was hers. The Woad symbols on the hilt gave it away. I clenched it tighter in my fist like I was trying to choke the memory of her out of it.

The door to the room opened, but I continued to stare at my paling knuckles from the force with which I was squeezing the dagger. Only when they were finally the color of snow did the person speak.

"I thought she was going to attack you." Lancelot.

My fist relaxed, and I met his gaze with a cold glare. It appeared that he was apologetic about the fatality, but I knew it was a facade. He wasn't sorry he'd killed her, just sorry about what followed. Lancelot could never be sorry for killing a Woad. I normally wouldn't be either.

He stepped away from the door, and sat down in his chair. We were almost directly across from each other. He tried to pretend that he didn't know I was still glowering at him, but I knew better.

"Tristan, what happened?" he finally said exasperatedly, finally looking directly at me. "What changed in a month that makes you angry about a dead Woad?"

"I care naught for the Woad," I growled. The instant I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Normally I would have thought more about what I was saying, but the anger had taken over my tongue. Lancelot's eyebrows rose. The implication in my words obviously wasn't lost on him.

"It is the girl then," he said.

"No," I said coldly. He huffed, shaking his head so that his curls shook. Now he was the one that looked aggravated.

"You left us for a month to have a fling with a hermit," he accused venomously.

I was on my feet so fast that my chair fell to the ground, and I slammed both of my fists into the table. He was taken aback, and I didn't blame him. This was probably the largest display of emotion I'd revealed to any of the knights ever.

"Do not talk of things you know nothing about, Lancelot," I said in a dangerously quiet voice, letting him know I wouldn't take anymore of his comments.

Just then the door opened, and the other knights trailed in. They all stopped at the sight of me leaning challengingly towards the other knight, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"What's going on?" Bors asked stupidly. The flush on his cheeks told me he'd delved into his ale mug early today.

"Just a bit of friendly conversation," Lancelot replied icily, eyes flashing as they laid upon me. I righted my chair, and sat back down. The others took that as their cue to sit as well, taking their respective seats. Arthur remained standing in front of his chair as he addressed us.

"I have spoken with the senator of his son's fate," he began, getting straight to the point. "I explained the reason for our delayed return," Lancelot's eyes darted to me accusingly, "and he understood fully. He and his wife will return to Rome tomorrow at dawn to pay homage to their son's memory there."

There was a heavy anticipation in the air. The knights had not been waiting impatiently for that part of this meeting. As Arthur took a deep breath, and turned to me, the others followed his lead. I was the main attraction today.

"Tristan, I think an explanation is in order," he said. My nostrils flared, the only sign of a reaction. He made me sound like a naughty child who'd been caught doing something against the rules. "What happened, starting from the battle?"

He sat, and the tension grew as I took my time in answering. I was deciding which parts of my tale to leave out, which details they didn't need.

"Before the second wave of soldiers came," I began, "I noticed a girl standing alone at the edge of the fight. She had a sword, but she clearly had not been involved yet. I snuck up behind her to kill her before she could join in, but she fought back. We dueled, but a man attacked me while my back was turned. I was caught off guard, and he managed to slash me across the chest. Before he could deal the killing blow, the girl clubbed him over the head and then I passed out. I woke up in the house where you found me, and she was tending to my wounds. She told me her name was Aderyn, but would not disclose any more information. She would not allow me to leave because of the extent of my injury. When I asked to send you a message, she declined because she did not want to draw attention to her location. I went back out for a day or so because of a fever, and when I awoke she still would not allow me to leave. I was weak from blood loss, and could not have been able to ride anyway. Since then, she has been helping me get back on my feet. I planned to leave at dawn tomorrow."

When I was done, they all watched me like they were waiting for more. I just blinked at them until they understood that I had no more to say.

"That's it?" Galahad blurted. Gawain slapped him upside the head, but I paid him no heed. I watched Arthur, who seemed to be struggling with the right way to ask something.

"Did you…learn anything about her connection with the Woads during your time there?" he finally said.

"Drenna raised her after her parents were killed by a Germanic tribe traveling through," I responded. I would not tell anyone what really transpired to make her connection with Drenna. That was her secret, and not mine to tell. "They have remained close since she was ten winters."

Arthur suddenly seemed to crumple, and his hands covered his face tiredly. Everyone was silent and still, waiting for what was to come next. I felt foreboding, knowing that a confrontation was on the horizon.

"Tristan," he sighed, taking his hands back from his face, "is there anything else I need to know?"

I tilted my head, pondering the question. "No."

"Rome has no knowledge of your disappearance during the mission," he said. "This is for our ears alone, and I need to ask you this: did you purposefully avoid returning?"

My temper flared white hot, and red clouded my vision. "Are you accusing me of deserting?" I growled.

"Yes, he is," Lancelot said darkly.

"Lancelot," Arthur said warningly.

"I am no deserter," I said indignantly. Lancelot made a disparaging sound that made my eyes flick to him furiously. That man was irking my last nerve at this point. "If you have something to say, say it."

Lancelot bristled. "I think exactly what I said earlier: you left to be with that woman."

Bors's mouth dropped at the blatant accusation, and I felt the weight of the dagger on my hip, begging to be thrown at this arrogant bastard.

"If anyone were to shirk duty because of a woman, it would be you," I said in an effort to keep calm.

"Yet I was the one who spent a month tramping across the forests of Briton to find you while you holed yourself up with the Woad-in-training!" he thundered. "Don't point fingers to get the attention away from you, Tristan. You have no way to prove that you were not just bedding a wench while we risked Woad infested territory for you!"

I opened my mouth to tell him never to call Aderyn a wench or I'd castrate him, but it seemed like a bad idea to defend her when I was supposed to not care for her. I focused on the other end of his argument instead, and leapt to my feet. I lifted my tunic over my head, and stood shirtless in front of them, baring the clearly new scar from my shoulder to the opposite hip. Bors whistled lowly, and Galahad visibly winced.

"This is what took up my time," I said angrily. "I _was_ injured, and I _did not_ bed the damn girl. She helped me heal, nothing more. I have never given any reason for any of you to believe that I would run before, and I do not think I have done so now either."

I pulled my tunic back on, and slumped back in my chair. Arthur was biting the inside of his cheek, a sign of deep thought. Lancelot's eyes had averted to his hands, and Galahad and Gawain exchanged a heavy glance.

"I do not believe you stayed away willingly," Arthur finally decided. "I know you, and I know that that is not something you would do. If anyone has any doubts, they cane take it up with you personally."

"I will be glad to convince them otherwise," I said, making sure they understood the thinly veiled threat. I looked at Lancelot as I said it, and his jaw tightened.

"Well, men," Arthur said in an attempt at cheerful. "We have all returned, alive and well, from yet another mission. These are our last months. Let us not fight amongst ourselves now when we have come so far together."

Bors whooped in agreement. "To the ale!" he cried, nearly running to the door to go. The others trickled out after him, but I stayed seated. A hand clamped onto my shoulder, and I looked up to see Arthur.

"Glad to have you back," he said, smiling.

I wished I felt the same.

**Not much going on in this one, just Lancelot being a dick. :) The next one will be an all-Aderyn chapter that made me tear up while I wrote it, haha. I get way too involved in my characters. But chapter 22...holy crap, I cried like a baby. It's not that bad, but since I have to get in character to be able to write, it really gets to me. But I cried for like two hours straight over it. Anywho, I just stated writing chapter 26, so I'm almost finished! :D**

**Thanks for the reviews and alerts! It really means a lot. (: I really hope they keep coming because they make my day better!**


	20. Daylight Dawns

**Hello, babies! :D I just have one thing to say before you read. This will be my last update until Sunday or Monday. I have a whole bunch of vacation crap planned, so I'm going to be pretty busy. I**_** might**_** find time to, but probably not, so I thought I'd warn you. I'm not going to update "Slowly Searching" now because I only did so about nine hours ago. Sorry to those of you who read it, but you've got your last update for a few days! :P**

_"I've lost who I am, and I can't understand why my heart is so broken, rejecting your love without love gone wrong. Lifeless words, carry on. But I know all I know is that the end's beginning. Who I am from the start. Take me home, to my heart. Let me go, and I will run. I will not be silenced. All this time spent in vain. Wasted years, wasted gain. All is lost. Hope remains, and this war's not over. There's a light. There's the sun taking all shattered ones to the place we belong."-Trading Yesterday_

*+*Aderyn*+*

It was like being that terrified little girl again. Suddenly I felt small and insignificant, and frighteningly alone. I rode until my legs and backside were numb. I would have kept going too if Egryn hadn't stopped from exhaustion. My fingers released the reins, my legs unclenched from my steed's sides, and I dropped sideways off of him with a thump. It hurt my side, but the emotional pain was so much that I only just registered the physical.

Drenna was gone. The last person on this earth I loved and trusted was dead, and it was all my fault. I should have told her about Tristan. I should have told him to leave once I knew he was well. I should have jumped in front of the arrow. I should have done _something_.

So many "should-have's", yet I'd done none of them. I'd betrayed her in the most horrible fashion. I saw it in her eyes before she was shot. Her last words to me had been forgiving, but that just made the pain in my chest twist more. I was selfish and stupid, but she still treated me like a daughter. I caused her death, but she told me she loved me. I was a horrible person.

The first wail shocked me, and it died in my throat. The next one made me realize that I'd started crying, and that made me cry harder. Finally I was just a lump on the ground, practically screaming my lungs out on the hard earth. I curled into a ball, and laid there like I used to when the pain of my family dying took me over. It was like that all over again.

Every time I loved someone, every time I wanted someone to stay more than anything, they died. Father, mother, Ursus, Melita, and Drenna. All gone. Egryn nuzzled my head, and his eyes seemed worried as I made no attempt to stifle my sobs.

"You should leave me," I muttered to him brokenly. "I love you, which means you will most likely be next."

He shook his head, mane tossing around, but made no move to leave. He laid down heavily next to me, and rested his head next to mine. I cried into his neck, wishing it was me who'd been on the other end of that arrow.

Why had the knight shot her? She'd only been about to stop the fight between Tristan and the other man. I thought of the Sarmatian murderer's face, the darkly handsome quality it had, and the black chasms of his eyes. Whatever anger he held within him was a thousand times worse than Tristan's. I could sense it, just on the other side of his composure.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to gut him for taking my last remaining family member away from me, but I couldn't. He was far away now, at Hadrian's Wall, where he belonged. I hoped he would die before his service was up. I wanted him to suffer like she did. I wanted him to burn or drown, painful deaths where you knew what was coming but could do nothing to stop it.

My rage surprised me. I hadn't even been this resentful when the barbarians murdered my family. That was probably because I was only a child when it happened, but I never thought myself capable of such evil thoughts.

Drenna would have frowned upon it. She didn't truly wish death on anyone, not even the warriors she fought against. She accepted that death was a part of nature, but I knew she never enjoyed being the one to inflict it on people. She always talked of what life would be like once Rome was gone, and she could stop fighting. She said she could be around me more, and focus more on her family. She wanted to introduce me to Merlin and Guinevere. If they met me now, they'd probably slit my throat. It was my fault she was dead, entirely so.

I remembered how reverently she spoke of her people and her land. She was filled to the brim with the capacity to love, and that showed when she'd saved a little orphan girl to whom she had no obligation. She was kind and gentle, but fierce and commanding when the need called for her to be so. She was passionate about her cause, and absolutely the best person I'd ever met.

How could someone like that just die? How could the biggest heart in the world just stop beating so quickly? I shuddered at the realization of how fragile life is, even in the most talented, battle-hardened combatant. If someone like her could be snuffed out like a light, then there was no hope for anyone else. Men like the leaders of Rome flourished, taking things from others and using men like the Sarmatians to do their will while the good people were stamped under their feet. Humans were evil things.

I felt like I had a new perspective, and it wasn't a good one. Suddenly I could see what Drenna had given me while she was alive without me even realizing it. She'd blinded me to the harsh cruelty of the real world. All of these years, I'd had a gullibility that I wasn't aware of. I felt like a fool for not seeing any of this. Why had I allowed myself to be protected like a small child?

It had grown dark when I finally stopped shaking with sobs. With my new outlook, I felt drained. My eyes stared blankly into the black neck of Egryn, who was still sitting next to me. I knew he must be hungry, but I had no strength to move. For what seemed like the thousandth time in my life, I wished death on myself. It was safer for everyone else that way. If I got attached to someone else, they faded out. I was a parasitical plague on any who loved me.

I heard a wolf howling from far away, and I knew that meant there would be more nearby. I would have probably laid there and let them get me if Egryn hadn't snorted in fear, and stood up. He was all I had left, and I'd be damned if I let the last companion I had be taken because of my selfish acts. I pulled myself up, cataloguing each and every pain in my body. I pulled myself into the saddle, and began a trot back towards the house.

When we finally arrived, it was pitch black outside. I lead Egryn to the stable, and took off his saddle. It seemed terribly empty without Isolde in there. Egryn seemed to feel it too because he curled up in the dent in the hay where Isolde used to sit, and nickered mournfully.

I went into the house, and lit the oil lamp. Whenever I walked in here before, I felt at home despite the bad memories. The final nail seemed to have been driven into the coffin of this place, because now I felt no connection to it at all. It was like walking into any other room. There was even an unfamiliar air about it. The last time I'd seen it, I'd been seeing it through childish eyes, unknowing of the true nature of life. Without that innocence, all I saw was a shack in the woods where every single person I'd ever loved had had their lives taken. I'd loved this house so much before, taking care of it in a reverent way. It was my mother's pride and joy. Now I just wanted to leave.

My eyes roamed over the walls, settling on the boarded doors of the bedroom that I'd shared with Melita. I thought of the memories in that room, of all the times we would stay up late, giggling about silly things and talking about how one day we'd see the world. We would go to the sea together, build houses right next to each other, and start families. We'd promised to never be away from each other.

I launched myself at the door, digging my fingers between the wood and the door, and pulling. I felt pain in my fingers, but didn't stop until the board was wrenched away. I fell, but stood back up quickly and continued to pull down every single board separating me from those memories. When the last was ripped down, I scrambled for the handle, opening it quickly.

The smell of stagnant air met my nostrils, and I coughed as I walked in. It was dark, so I quickly lit the oil lamp and held it out in front of me. Everything was covered in thick layers of dust and cobwebs, and a mouse squeaked in terror and retreated. An ugly-looking bat even glared at me from the roof, squeaking and flying out past me indignantly.

On the opposite wall, facing towards me, were two small straw mattresses with knitted blankets thrown over them. In the corner was a trunk with the lid thrown open, spilling dresses out onto the floor from the haste I'd used to dress the morning I almost died. Melita's things were still impeccably organized, her trunk lid closed. There was a desk in the corner with three chairs where our mother used to give us our lessons. There were little carvings in the walls where we'd told stories to each other, making visuals of what we were saying. The one I looked at now had trees and flowers, and two little girls holding hands. I touched it gently, unable recalling the story behind it.

My old wooden sword was propped against the wall by the bed. At the top of Melita's bed was a little rabbit figurine my mother had knitted and stuffed with feathers. It was pure white, and she'd carried it around with her from the time she was a baby.

I walked forward until I dropped next to her bed. I reached out, intending to pick up the stuffed animal, but I stopped right before I touched it. She'd always made sure it was clean so that it would stay as white as the day it was made. I knew she would have hated if I touched it with my dirty hands. I stood back up, and then made my way over to her trunk. I opened the lid with shaking fingers, and stared at the perfectly folded dresses inside. I always wondered how a six year old could be such a perfectionist. I set down the lamp, and pulled out a dress of hers with both hands. It was a light pink color, and thick for the winter. I went to set it back when I noticed a dark stain. I moved my hand, and noticed more that weren't there a second ago.

I gasped, realizing it was blood. I dropped it, and stared down at my hands. My fingers were bleeding profusely, mainly from the nails where I'd scrabbled at the boards to pull them away. I looked back at the bloody handprints on the dress, and remembered the bloodstains on her favorite dress that day when she died. I drew in a sharp breath, and left the room. I looked across the main area at the next boarded up door, and repeated the exercise.

This time it was Ursus's room I entered. His bow was leaning against the wall with a quiver of arrows. It was his pride and joy, the first one he ever made on his own. He'd been well on his way to being the great carpenter that our father was. His mattress was against the wall, blankets till strewn across it haphazardly from when he woke up for the last time. His sword was lying in an odd spot on the ground, like he'd thrown it when he walked in the door. His trunk of clothes was also messy with things spilling out even though the lid was shut. Instead of a desk, there was a table where a hammer, nails, an axe, and various carving tools where he used to practice his skill.

I remembered all the times I'd come in here before Melita was born, and sat under the table, watching his legs while he worked. One day he'd bent down, and presented me with the wooden sword with a big grin. I smiled back, and poked him in the chest experimentally. He'd pretended to die, and when I crawled out from underneath the table he'd sprung up and thrown me over his shoulder to take me outside and teach me to use the sword. I bent down now, looking at the space I'd once fit so easily.

I left the room quickly, afraid to touch anything with my bloodied hands. The last door seemed to grow as I stared at it. All of my fears, my bad memories, and the pain I kept hidden was behind it. Either I went through it now, or I kept them all locked in me forever. Drenna's words echoed in my head, "_Don't let your losses take over you._"

I stepped up and started to pull away the boards, ripping each one away. It seemed to go faster than last time like even the wood knew I didn't know if I was ready to face this yet and was becoming easier to remove so I couldn't change my mind.

When the last one broke in my hands, I threw both pieces behind me, and stared at the door. I tightened my grip on the lantern, and pushed on the wooden surface. The same blast of air hit me, and I stuck the lantern in first, illuminating the beginning of the room. It took me three slow steps until I was standing in the entrance, staring around at the birthplace of my terrors.

The bed was still against one wall with a small nightstand next to it, and a chair facing it where Drenna had sat at my bedside after I was injured. There was a desk in here that had once had papers strewn over it; all of my father's designs and lists for things he needed when he went to the nearest town market. It was overturned now from when the barbarians invaded the place. The papers had been restocked and set down next to it, by Drenna presumably. My father's tools were in a brown sack next to the door, and my mother's sewing kit was on top of a dresser where my parents put their clothes. I closed my eyes, and for a moment I could hear the men as they tortured me and feel their breath on my face and neck. I could see the ceiling over my head where I kept my focus, and smell their sweat and my own blood.

My eyes flew open, and I tried to slow my breathing which had picked up at my panic. When I was calm again, I looked at the bed. The sheets that had once been white had dark stains on them from my blood and the dirt of the men who'd took me there. I diverted my eyes to the dresser, and walked over to it. This felt like a dream.

I set the lantern on top of it, and knelt down, gently pulling on the handles of the bottom drawer. It opened with a scraping sound, and I stared down at my mother's dresses on the left and my father's tunics on the right. I don't know how long I sat there, just staring at them. I could remember them in these clothes even though I could no longer clearly see their faces. I remembered my mother's dark hair, so similar to mine, and my father's eye color, also mine. I could see Ursus's budding beard, and Melita's wide gap-toothed smile. Only small details that I couldn't seem to piece together to create the perfect picture of their faces.

I wiped my hands on the ground to get rid of the blood, and then picked up a tan dress of my mother's. It was incredibly soft, and I had a sudden memory of digging my fingers into the folds of it as we walked through the forest picking berries. It was fleeting, and I couldn't really remember how old I was or anything besides that one second of time frame. The dress could possibly fit me now, which felt odd.

I picked up a black tunic of my father's next, and set it next to the dress on my lap. I slowly bunched both of them in my fists, and raised them to my nose to breathe in their scent. They no longer smelled of the flowery smell my mother gave off or the smoky odor of my father. These were no longer my parents' clothes. These things were just fabric now, having been neglected for over a decade.

I started to sob again, directly into the clothing. When I started I couldn't stop, and ended up just sitting there until the lamp burned out. My throat ached with the continuous wails I let out, and my eyes burned with salty tears. After nearly an hour, I fell sideways into the dirt. I fell asleep like that, with the fabrics pressed into my face and the evidence of my loss still flowing down my cheeks.

**You all probably don't see it yet, but there is a load of plot progression in here for such a short one. You'll see in a chapter or two. :P**

**Thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites. They really mean a lot, guys. :)**


	21. Black Out the Sky

**Hello, lovies! I have somethings to say really fast before you read.**

**I'm not going to have a lot of update time until next week, which is why this is two days late. :( I have exams which means assloads of studying and one of my friends is graduating so I have to go to that. So basically, I have to disappoint everyone yet again b delaying updates.**

**Sorry for the rant. You can get on with your reading now. :D**

_"For everything it's worth, every breath I take still hurts. Maybe it's just the alcohol burning through my veins. But either way, I'll be missing you to death. And if I don't get out of this alive, just know I loved you back. But I don't owe you anything at all. It's just the look in your eyes, and the way your hair falls to the side. It's the hole in the wall where my fist went through. It's the scene that I made. Baby, I'm not your everything, and I'm, I'm never ever gonna be. You're in too deep to pull the strings. You bend and you break to find a better part of me. I'll be missing you to death, and if we don't get out of this alive, just know I loved you back."-Flight 409_

*+*Arthur*+*

I ran my hand down my face as I had been doing frequently as of late. The man before me did not attempt to explain himself or even try to deny the claims against him. It was futile anyway. He'd spent more time being reprimanded by me in these last three weeks than he ever had in the past fourteen years.

"Tristan," I sighed, leaning my elbows onto the desk and making a steeple out of my fingers in front of my face, "again? I thought the time before was the last."

He kept his hands together behind his back, and shrugged carelessly, allowing no emotion to show outright. The plaits he'd adorned since being in the forest let more of his face show than he used to, but it didn't change the fact that he rarely had a discernible expression on it.

"You cannot keep doing this," I told him seriously. "Taking out your anger on Roman soldiers will not go unnoticed by higher authorities for long. If you keep hitting them, someone is going to demand more punishment."

He gave no indication that he cared, or even heard me. This became more common as time had passed. It wasn't like he was predictable before, but now he seemed likely to lash out at anyone who passed him. Even the other knights stepped lightly around him like they were scared of making his volatile temper spill over. It wouldn't really have surprised me if he'd started challenging the knights as well anymore. Especially Lancelot, who he clearly harbored an intense dislike for ever since he'd returned from the forest three weeks ago.

Roman soldiers seemed to be dealt the brunt of his rage. If any of them said even one word Tristan didn't like, he'd lay them flat. This was proven in the sixth man in two weeks that had come to me with complaints of Tristan's abuse. They didn't have to prove it, as their injuries were blatantly obvious: black eyes, broken noses and jaws, sprained wrists, painful-looking cuts, and even four dislocated toes. He wasn't trying to hide that he was fighting.

"I have to take action, or you'll be thrown in the stocks or flogged," I told him. "I am banning you from the tavern until further notice."

His eyes flashed for a moment, and I fixed him with a steely glare. "I'm doing this for your own good. Vanora knows, and will be informing the other workers. If you step foot in there, I will know and legal action will be taken against you."

His jaw clenched, but he nodded once. "Are we done?" he growled.

"No," I replied. "I need to speak to you on a personal note." I leaned back into my chair again, and let the sternness fall from my gaze. "I have never seen this sort of behavior from you before recent weeks. You have not told anyone what ails your mind, but that is typical. I think that I know what it is this time, though."

He opened his mouth to interrupt, but I held up my hand to stop him. "Let me finish. I want you to now that there was no way you could have prevented what happened back there. Too much was going on at once, and you could not have impeded the woman's death."

He regarded me carefully, like he was deciding how to phrase what he wanted to say. "I did not care about the woman. The problem is what ensued her death."

I nodded slowly. He didn't know it, but he'd just confirmed my suspicions: he had cared for the British girl. His eyes were suddenly cold, and I knew he'd realized what he'd done.

"If you need anything, I am here," I told him quietly. "You are a friend to me more than a reinforcement, and I believe you know that."

He nodded, and then left. I stayed in that chair, staring at the door he'd ecited through. Tristan would have been the last of my knights I would have expected to ever become this way over a woman. He was always collected and thoughtful, never allowing anything to break his concentration. That woman must have been an adaptable one to be able to deal with his erratic personality.

Since the meeting where Lancelot accused him of desertion, he'd distanced himself from the knights. He trained alone, and always had a table to himself in the tavern where he would watch and listen. Occasionally he could be found with a dagger, always the same one, clenched in his hand. He would just stare at it, sometimes running his thumb over the unfamiliar symbols on the blade and hilt. More often than not, he would wait for a soldier to slip up so he could have an excuse to hit them. I'd observed this behavior warily at first, not knowing what he would do. When he started to lash out, I'd been disappointed. I always thought he would be the one I wouldn't have to have that talk with.

Eventually he spent more and more time locked up in his room with the curtains drawn, only coming out in the early morning to scout if I asked or to train, and then at night when he went to the tavern. I figured now I would only see him if I woke before dawn.

Bors and Dagonet were the only ones besides me who tried to talk to him. Gawain was taking a he'll-come-around approach, Galahad was admittedly a bit afraid of his new attitude, and Lancelot didn't attempt to hide his detest for the man. I had done my best to avoid conflict with my knights, but it seemed like bringing Tristan back had only caused more. What an ironically bitter twist.

I knew that Tristan would not come to me if he needed anything like I'd told him to. He would never willingly accept help from anyone. All I could do now was follow Gawain's approach: give him time, and hope he'll get over the only woman who he's ever spared more than a glance or a night in the same bed.

Somehow, I doubted that this would pass quickly.

*+*Tristan*+*

After I left Arthur's, I went straight to the stables and sat down in the stall with Isolde. She and my hawk were fast becoming the only living things I could stand to be around for more than three seconds. Even Arthur was working my last nerve, and he was the last person I wanted to take my anger out on.

For three weeks I'd barely felt like a person. I ate, I slept, and I went about doing normal things. There was nothing to it though, no emotion or thought. I was a machine, just going through the motions of a real life without knowing what I was doing.

Isolde neighed, and bent down to look me in the eye. I handed her an apple that I'd had hidden in my tunic. She took it, and chomped it loudly, moving her head away from me. I patted her leg absentmindedly, my thoughts were miles away with the girl I'd left behind. There were more pressing things to think about now, like the fact that every day more and more troops stationed at the fort were called back to Rome. There had been suspicions before that Rome was withdrawing from Briton due to attacks from barbaric tribes weakening their armies. Now it seemed like more than rumor.

I didn't have enough space in my head to think about such pressing things when my mind was so often clouded with rage at what had occurred that last day in the woods. There wasn't a day that I didn't think of her. I'd received many wounds on the various battlefields of this godforsaken place, but never had I experienced such an excruciating feeling as this. My chest ached, the sound of her sobs echoed in my head, and I could always smell rain when I hovered in that place between sleeping and waking. She was in everything I did and in every corner of my mind. Why had I let her take over me like this?

The most pessimistic part of me wondered if she was dead. How could a living person haunt me so much? I hoped I was wrong. If I felt this way just because I caused her pain, I couldn't imagine how I would feel if it was my fault she was dead.

This was all so new, this whole "feeling" thing. Before I met her, my emotions were black and white: angry, disinterested, pain, amused. Now everything I felt seemed to explode like light from the sun. My anger was always rage, my pain was always agony, and my distaste was always burning hate. They were the only emotions I could feel anymore, and they were much harder to keep down. What happened to the in-between?

I rested my chin on my chest for a moment, and then rammed my head back into the stable wall. Isolde made an agitated sound, but I just closed my eyes against the headache I'd just caused myself.

I missed her. I hated it, but I did. When I thought back, I couldn't really distinguish the moment where she'd started to have an effect on me. It might have been when she told me what happened to her family. Maybe it was when she called me a coward in the stable. The most likely moment was when she wept in her sleep, begging the men in her dream not to hurt her, and then shuffled over to fix my stitches and fallen asleep holding my hand while she cried. There was something so broken about her that night, and all I wanted was to make sure she never felt that way again.

I don't know who I was kidding when I thought that if I brought her back to the Wall we wouldn't have ended up together. It was inevitable. It would have been me being mocked for being with one woman along with Bors, and it would have been me that always yearned to go home when we were on missions. I think I would have been able to handle all of that if it meant I knew she was safe.

I sounded like a woman. If anyone could hear my thoughts right now, my reputation as a ruthless killer would be completely soiled and people might actually try to socialize with me. I couldn't even bare the thought.

"So this is where you keep hiding."

I glared through my hair at Gawain, who leaning casually against Isolde's stall door, staring down at me with a bit of a smile. "I'm not one to judge, but this doesn't seem like a very sanitary hiding place."

"Don't you have a whore to busy yourself with?" I growled. He laughed, and let himself in, flopping down across from me on the opposite wall. I scowled at him.

"You deaf?" I snapped. "Get lost."

"Don't take the aggression out on me, man," he said boredly. "You know I am not that easy to bait."

I made an angry sound, and thought about stabbing him. Not fatally, just in the leg or the arm so he would go away. I was not in the mood for human company these days, not that I really had been before.

"I have something I need to tell you," he said, suddenly taking on a serious demeanor. "When we were looking for you…I was the one who kept trying to get Arthur to give up. I wanted to leave you."

My eyebrows rose, but I said nothing. He looked right in my eyes, unwavering, which was a feat not many could manage.

"It was not that I wanted you to die," he explained. "It was just that I…I did not know if it was possible for me to stand next to another grave." He took a deep breath, and his shoulders slumped. "I am tired of this life. I am sick of watching my brothers die, and I am ready to rid myself of the armor, the weapons, and this island. I thought you were dead, to be honest, and seeing your body would have made it all the more real. It was the opposite of wanting you dead, actually. I was not ready to let go of another friend."

His words surprised me, and I was the one to look away for once. Gawain had always been one of the knights who wasn't afraid to voice their opinions and let anything they felt loose, but he'd never said anything of this sort to me. Honestly, there were clear groupings with the knights. Arthur and Lancelot, Bors and Dagonet, and Gawain and Galahad. I was the lone one of the group, which was most likely the result of always having to scout ahead. I became accustomed to being by myself, and eventually preferred it to being around others. I never imagined that Gawain or any of the other knights really gave that much of a damn about me. I acknowledged that I was the disposable one.

I still had no idea what to say to him, so I just nodded slowly, letting him know that I understood why he'd wanted to leave me. He sighed, and leaned his head back against the stall.

"So…did you really bed the Briton girl?" he asked.

My eyes darted over his face, discerning his intention. He seemed genuinely curious, not mocking or like he was here to get information to pass onto Lancelot, who seemed to be against my every movement since I'd returned.

"No," I told him firmly. "My answer will not change no matter how many times I am asked."

He nodded. "It's just rather hard to believe. She was rather…comely."

He moved his eyebrows suggestively, and I ignored him. He didn't know the half of it.

"Did you realize that when Arthur was telling Galahad to slit her throat?" I deadpanned.

He scoffed. "The Woad told us she was insane, and she acted like it. She nearly cut me in half."

I smirked, imagining the look on Gawain's face at being attacked by a woman as small as her. That must have been a shocker.

"You loved her," he accused randomly. I went back to glaring.

"No."

"You're lying."

"I am not."

"You are!"

I stood up, and brushed the hay off my pants. "I am getting really tired of you," I spat, slamming the stall door behind me as I left.

"Don't run from your feelings, Tristan!" Gawain called after me, cackling like an old witch. I wished I'd just stabbed him.

I walked away towards the keep so I could stay in my room. I'd probably remain there for the rest of the day, as I was no longer allowed in the tavern. I knew I couldn't keep taking out my anger at myself on other soldiers anymore, and had no idea where to find an outlet now. Perhaps hunting would be a good idea.

I heard a screech from above, and just managed to put my arm out for my hawk to land on it. She stared at me knowingly, like she could sense the conflict in my head. I stroked the feathers on her breast, and spoke to her in quiet Sarmatian as I continued towards my room. The people in the streets eyed me warily because of the hawk on my arm, but mostly because of my new even more violent reputation. I was fast becoming infamous.

When I entered my room, I slumped into one of the chairs at the table, and the hawk leapt from my arm to stand on the edge, making an agitated sound.

"Hold on, hold on," I said, reaching behind me to pick up the remains of my lunch to feed her the meat from the stew. She ate it greedily, nearly taking my fingers off a few times. I watched her preen when she was finished, thoughtfully tapping my fingers on my knee.

She finally turned her attention back to me, and cawed again. I held out my arm, and she hopped onto it.

"Would you do something for me?" I asked her. "Would you check on her?"

She twittered in response, and rustled her wings. I took that as an agreement, and stood to unlatch my window.

"Do not let her see you," I said as she flew out of the window.

I watched until she was only a black speck in the sky, wishing that I could be closing the distance between me and Aderyn like she was.

**So no Aderyn, but lots of Tristan, which is always nice. ;) He's a bit out of character in this, I know (and sincerely hate), but it was necessary. Anyway, the action starts in two chapters, I believe, so be prepared. ;D**

**Thanks everyone for the reviews and alerts! They really make my days brighter. Keep 'em coming, please and thank you! :D**


	22. Does Anyone Care?

**Hello, everyone! How are you? I'm good, cool. :)**

**So I have announcements, yet again. I didn't tell you last time that I had finished this story, did I? Oh, well, I did! But I went back and read chapter 29, and I realized that it was around thirty pages long. The day I wrote it, I woke up at one in the afternoon, was half-asleep all day, and then wired by like midnight. So I went on a two hour writing spree, and didn't realize just how long it was. I split it up, and now this story is going to end up being thirty-three chapters instead of thirty. I had to go back and rename all the chapters though, which was terribly annoying. :\ But yeah, you get extra, so be happy, dammit!**

**My tests are all of next week, and prom is on Saturday. It's gonna be hectic, but I'll try to update. (:**

_"Don't let your eyes go shut on me. I won't let your voice be silenced, silenced. Blood is dripping from my hands. Tell me, is this what you wanted? I'm the one that walked away. For me, it's all that I needed. With nowhere to turn, I'll find truth only with you. What's left of me is yours to keep. What's left of me is yours. One last chance for salvation, salvation. See this empty hole inside. Don't let it keep growing deeper. I'm the one who runs away. It's true,p I'm lost on the outside. Breathe you in, and it's all over now when my arms open. Breathe you in, I'll breathe you in. I'm drowning. Forgive me."-blessthefall_

*+*Aderyn*+*

Three weeks went by in which most of my time was spent lying spread eagle on the ground in the center of the house, unable and unwilling to move. I rarely slept, couldn't get up the appetite to eat, and allowed the depression to swallow me whole. I cried in random intervals, sometimes until the point that I vomited or could barely breathe.

I only managed to move myself for Egryn, knowing that he had to be hungry and thirsty. I would feed him and give him water, then go right back to letting myself slowly starve to death. I'd lost a lot of weight in those weeks, and I looked a bit unhealthy when I caught my reflection in the water trough in Egryn's stable.

Today I decided that I needed to do something. If I continued this, I would die, and that would make Drenna's death completely pointless. She'd saved me fourteen years ago, and if I ended up dying anyway, it would be like spitting on all that she sacrificed for me. I pushed myself up from the ground, and stood wearily. My hair was lank and knotty from lack of care, my hands were cut and bruised and dark with the bloodstains I'd never washed off, and I smelled terrible. I trudged over to the bag I kept my bathing materials in, and shoved a towel into it.

When I stepped outside, I felt dizzy. It had been a long time since I ate, and I didn't have any food. I decided to hunt once I was done bathing. Egryn was probably itching to exercise, but I decided to walk to the stream instead of riding him. It gave me more time to think about what my next move was. Though I was considered a woman in age, I was still dependent on Drenna. Now that she was gone, I had to figure out a way to either make due with what I already knew or discover for myself what I didn't know. For instance, I didn't know to make the soap in my bag. I could either learn to go without it, or figure out how to make it.

That one had a definite answer. I would have to learn to make it. There was no way I could go without soap. Other things had harder answers. I no longer had an army backing me up if I were to ever run into trouble. There wasn't any right now, but I knew it would be coming. With Drenna dead, her tribe was weak with no leader. She'd left no heir, so there would be fights over leadership. Others would sense the conflict, and use it to their advantage. If armies began to sneak into the woods, I would die this time, no doubt.

I dropped the bag next to the stream, and pulled off my clothes. The chafing of the fabric against the torn skin on my hands hurt, and I hissed at every contact. I would have to bandage them when I got back or they'd get infected. If I lost my hands, I might as well find a comfy hole to die in so I could save myself the trouble of digging a grave with my feet.

I climbed into the water, and started to scrub down my grimy skin. The soap burned my hands, but they needed to be cleaned anyway. I was about to duck under the water to get my hair wet when I noticed something on my chest. My fingertips brushed the hawk I still wore around my neck, the one Tristan carved for me. I felt like it was mocking me by being there, reminding me of the man I'd exchanged Drenna's life for.

My fist clenched around it, and I almost ripped it from my neck and threw it into the forest. A strangled feeling in my heart stopped me just when I began to tug at it. My fingers relinquished the pendant, and I knew in that moment that I couldn't throw it away. For a moment the memory of kissing him flashed through my mind, but I shoved it down as fast as it came. I didn't deserve those happy memories anymore.

I finished washing my hair, dried myself, and quickly redressed. On the way back to the house, I thought over what it meant to finally have confronted the horrors that my parents' former bedroom faced me with. I'd actually felt a bit of closure, which I hadn't been allowed any of for the past fourteen years. No matter how far I'd moved on, they always plagued my mind. Now the weight was slightly lessened.

I thought over Drenna's last words to me when she'd told me not to let my losses control me. It seemed strange that she should tell me that now when she'd watched me do just that from the first time we met. Everything I did was fueled by the memory of my family. Going through their rooms made me realize just how little I felt for the cottage I was so devoted too. The house was my parents' passion, not mine, but I kept it in pristine condition as if I expected them to one day come home. It was slightly sick and twisted when you really thought about it; a child deluding herself into waiting for the family she knew was dead for more than ten winters.

I dropped everything in the main room when I returned, and then walked around to see Egryn. He neighed happily when he saw me, leaping towards me to nuzzle into my shoulder. I smiled for the first time since the day Drenna died, and stroked his neck softly, whispering to him soothingly. He still had food and water from the last time I'd managed to pull myself out of my stupor to remember I had another being depending on me. It was like a black hole I'd sunk into, only able to pull myself through for my horse.

If allowing myself to wallow in a dark depression for weeks wasn't letting the memories of my deceased loved ones take over my life, then I didn't know what was. I wanted to heed Drenna's final wish, but I didn't know how. What was it that I needed? What would help me move on?

Closure. I needed closure. I thought of the day I woke up in my parents' room, and the triumph I felt at finally being able to face the fears that room contained. I wanted, needed to do something now that I'd been putting off for far too long.

"Want to go for a walk, handsome?" I asked Egryn.

/\/\/\/\/\

I left Egryn to chase after a butterfly he'd spotted, and stepped into the place I'd called "the hollow" since I was ten winters. Self-consciously, I wrapped my arms around myself, and kneeled before the four pure black stones before me. They had Woad symbols carved on them that were supposed to help lead spirits into the afterlife safely.

These were the graves of my parents and siblings. I had not been here since I watched Drenna bury them. For years I'd avoided this place like it would bring my death. It was time.

"Hello," I said quietly, cheeks reddening with how foolish I felt. "Drenna always said that when she visited her father's grave, she spoke to him of the things she could not tell the living because he would never give away her secrets…I do not have a secret to confess, but I still think the concept applies.

"I just…I have missed you all so much," I whispered. "I was not ready to be on my own when you were taken from me. I didn't know much about life. I was still a child, in every way. I think I held onto that immaturity in order to hang onto all of you. That is why I never came here. Maybe some part of my mind was convinced that if I did not see your graves, you were still out in the world somewhere."

I smoothed my hands down my thighs to fix the wrinkles in my breeches. This was so much harder than I thought it was going to be. The entire place was silent. Even the wilderness around me was watching and listening for what I would say next.

"Ursus," I finally said, looking up at the stone I knew was over his grave, "I am sorry that I threw mud at you that day. I should have told you how much I loved you instead of annoying you. I could never have been gifted with a better brother. I know you would have made some woman a very lucky wife. I wish I had not been denied the opportunity to spoil my nieces and nephews."

I smiled slightly, and turned my eyes to the stone next to his. "Father, you made me realize what a great man really is. They are not the men from the tales of valiant and noble soldiers that Ursus told me, but they are the men who love their families and would do anything to protect them…including give their own lives. I wish it had not come to that for you. I love you, and thank you for always being the one to chase my nightmares away."

The sight of the next stone had me choking up, and my nails dug into the knees of my breeches. I ignored the pain, and whispered, "Mother, I always wanted to be just like you when I got older. I know now that that is impossible because no one could ever be as good a person. You were selfless, gentle, and had the kindest heart I will ever come across. You taught me so much even though you had a limited time to do so, and I wish you could see me now, see that I have become the woman you wanted me to be. I can defend myself, I am educated, and I would never let a man make all of my decisions for me. I could never have become who I am without your guidance. I will never be able to thank you enough."

Tears started to fall when I looked at the last and smallest black rock, gently reaching forward to run my fingers over the smooth surface. "Melita," I whispered, voice cracking, "my baby sister, my best friend…I failed you that day. I should have stayed with you, or at least gotten you somewhere safe before I left. If I could, I would take it back and give my life for yours. I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

I bowed my head, one hand one her grave marker as I sobbed. I had cried little for my family after they died, instead choosing to bottle up my emotions and then take them out on myself internally. I couldn't stop now though as I just let go of every reservation I had. A breeze blew through, swiftly sending the leaves on the trees fluttering. When it passed my face, I could have sworn I smelt a quick hint of the flowery smell of my mother. I lifted my head, and looked at each of the stones.

"I love you all," I said brokenly, still sobbing, "but it is time for me to let go of the past now. I need to move on, or all of this is going to eat me alive. I hope you all can understand that. I will keep you in my heart forever, but it is time for me to find my own life instead of trying to live the ones you would have."

I stood up, and when I did, the strangest thing happened. Suddenly I didn't feel so dead inside. I was able to smile at the ground even though tears still stained my cheeks. I felt lighter. Acceptance was what I felt in that moment, and for what felt like the first time since I was a child, I could breathe properly again.

I left the hollow, and walked to where Egryn had been. He was rolling on his back in the grass, but stood when I came near. He came over like he knew what I'd just done, and nudged my shoulder.

I smiled at him genuinely, and ran my hand over his snout. "I'm okay. Actually I'm better than I have been for…a very long time."

He whinnied, and I grinned at him, giggling when he showed me his teeth like he was smiling at me.

The moment was interrupted when I heard a bird call. I looked to the sky, and a black spec of a bird was circling above me. The cry was so familiar, but I knew it could not be that particular bird. She would be with her master now, back at his temporary home.

Egryn had gently picked up the hawk figurine with his teeth, and now pulled at it to get my attention. When I looked at him, he let go of it, and stared at me imploringly.

"Do you miss Isolde?" I asked him. "Is that it?"

He bobbed his head awkwardly, but I took that as a confirmation. I thought of the man who owned her, and still felt that familiar fluttering in my chest like my heart was being assaulted by a hummingbird.

For awhile I'd blamed him for Drenna's death, but then I'd turned it all on myself. Now I knew that her death was the fault only of the man who shot her. With nothing to be angry at Tristan about, I realized just how much I missed him. Without the agonizing feeling of loss, I could clearly see the large hole in my heart that had been there since he left. My euphoria at finally being able to accept death was deflated at the heartache of not being with the man I loved.

_The man I loved_? Since when did he go from the man I'd kissed to the man I loved? My hands stilled on Egryn's neck as an image of the knight came to my mind's eye. I could see him so clearly it was like I was staring right at him. My heart felt too big for my chest in that moment, and I knew that Tristan had been much more than just a man I'd kissed for a long time. It was true: I loved him.

The plan seemed to have been in my head all along, just waiting for the right moment to make itself known. I knew that this chapter of my life was over with, done. The days where I locked myself up to revel in my denial were behind me, and that left only one option. I would leave. With that resolve, I now knew exactly where I was going.

I leapt into the saddle so fast that Egryn backed up like he was startled. I patted his side to calm him.

"Come on, Egryn. We have got to pack," I told him with a smile. "We are going to Hadrian's Wall. I am going to find Tristan."

**This chapter made me cry hysterically. It probably won't make anyone else cry, but I was in serious character when I was writing it, haha.**

**The action starts next chapter, and continues for two or three, I can't remember.**

**Thanks for the reviews and alerts. They really are greatly appreciated. I'm hoping to make 100 reviews by chapter twenty-four. :)**


	23. Is Anybody There?

**OHHHHMYYYYGOOOOOODD! So many good things have happened since my last update! First of all, two of my tests are out of the way, including the hardest one! Aaaaand I REACHED A HUNDRED REVIEWS TWO CHAPTERS BEFORE I THOUGHT I WOULD! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? I AM SO HAPPY! And on top of that the latest update of one of my favorite stories on here ("Silent Knight" by Stickelbatz, go read it now) was dedicated to me! HOLY SHIT, THESE HAVE BEEN A GOOD FEW DAYS! I am living life good. :)**

**I was also informed that I'm not allowed to reply to reviews on my chapters. Woopsies. I'll be using the reply button where necessary from now on, haha.**

_"One more chance, that's all I'll ever ask for. I've been standing, waiting at your front door. I won't go. Been waiting for hours for you. Out of bed, looking in the mirror. Everyday it gets a little clearer. If you go, I'm patiently waiting for you. I'm climbing the walls. I'm searching for answers. The keys in my mind are turning like dancers. I'm trying to find the words, but I just can't speak. I'm living proof, broken and defeated. I'm a shattered youth, and no one could believe it. If I can't have you then, darling, I just can't go on. Show me where the light is leading. Sit and stare, I wonder what you're thinking. Sweat falls down. Stomach starts the sinking. Where are you? I'm patiently waiting for you. Well just last night you said you didn't love me. That's alright, I know that you're above me. Memories past are flooding around me for you. I'm wondering why. Why did I do it? I'm watching you cry. Can barely get through it. I'm sorry, I swear. I'm sorry for what I did."-The Downtown Fiction_

*+*Tristan*+*

Since I'd been banned from the tavern, I'd stopped fighting. I'd returned to my usual regime other than that, trying to get a sense of normalcy. I would scout in the morning, tend to Isolde, train, and then would either return to my room or walk in the forest area outside of the Wall. Even doing those things that were always routine to me didn't feel normal anymore.

My relationship with the knights was basically back to normal. I would make offhanded comments to Galahad to get a rise out of him, Gawain would unsuccessfully try to make me laugh, Bors would make his crude jokes which honestly did amuse me, Dagonet would join me in my silence, and Arthur and I went back to our usual accord with no more mentions of him trying to help me, which I was grateful for. The only person who I did not speak to was Lancelot. He had stopped hinting at the idea that I'd left on purpose to be with Aderyn, but had not made any move to speak to me other than that. I didn't mind at all, not feeling very friendly towards the man who I'd decided caused the rift between me and her.

I hadn't seen my hawk since I sent her to check on Aderyn, and that bothered me a bit. It should not have taken so long for her to return. I assumed she had decided to hunt on her way back, and would be back soon.

It was midday, and I'd just come back from a ride with Isolde to the apple tree. Now I took out one of the green fruits and sat down at the table in my room, taking out Aderyn's dagger to carve off pieces and eat them that way.

It was the only way I ate them anymore. She didn't know it, but a lot of the things she did rubbed off on me. For instance, I now kept my hair plaited in certain places so it would stay out of my eyes. Bors had, of course, made comments about how I'd picked up feminine habits because of spending too much time with only a girl for company, but I'd just reminded him that at least I had hair to braid. He'd been moody after that.

I also had taken to sleeping with both of my windows wide open so I could hear the wind and wake up to the sound of birds. It reminded me of waking up in her house every day where I could just step outside and there was nature. I always used to keep my windows locked tight at night, being a bit paranoid. I didn't trust Romans.

I finished my apple, and chucked the core out the open window. I wiped the stickiness off of the blade, and then just stared at it. It was all that I had that really reminded me of her besides the new habits.

Two weeks after I returned, there was a woman in the tavern. She had blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. For a moment, all I could see was Aderyn, and when she pushed herself against me, it was all I needed to decide she was mine that night. I took her back to my room, and practically tore her clothes off of her. When I crawled on top of her in bed, she spoke. I didn't hear what she said, but her voice threw me off. It was nasally and much too deep to belong to the woman I was thinking of. This time when I looked at her, all I could see was the things that made her look completely different to Aderyn. Her hair didn't have the same reddish tint in the light, her eyes were too small, and nose was crooked like it had been broken before. I kicked her out of my room, not even bothering to finish what I started. She cursed me to Sarmatia and back as she left, but I paid her no mind. A whore's opinion of anyone shouldn't be held in that high of a respect.

There was a sharp knock at my door, and I stared at it perplexedly. Not many dared to disturb me while I was in here, not even the knights. It could mean only two things: it was one of the knights coming to tell me there was a mission and we had to go, or it was the prostitute I'd kicked out coming back to spew more insults at me.

To my immense surprise, the intruder threw the door open, and then shut it behind them. I just stared at them from my seat on the other side of the room, trying to decide which way I wanted to kill them. They turned, and my eyes widened infinitesimally.

"Vanora?" I asked.

She bustled over to the bed, and picked the blankets off the floor, tossing them back to their rightful place. She tucked them in hurriedly, not leaving a single crease.

"You are the least messy of them all, but you still can't figure out how to make a bed?" she grumbled, acting as if this were a common occurrence. I had to admit that I was baffled. She was the only woman I would not have caused bodily harm to if they'd barged into my room, and I had no idea why she was here in the first place.

When she finished making the bed, she plopped down in the chair across from me, and smiled. I waited for her to speak, but she seemed to be doing the same.

"Why are you here?" I asked finally, wanting to get whatever she wanted out of the way so that I could go back to my solitude.

"Bors told me why you've been moody," she said simply. My eyes darkened. "Not that you weren't always a bit moody; it's just worse now." I continued to be silent, so she went on. "I do not know what happened out there specifically, of course. I just know about the girl. What was her name?"

I narrowed my eyes at her, letting her know she was in dangerous territory. Vanora never was one that could take a hint.

"Alright, don't tell me then," she said, shifting in her seat to get more comfortable. "Though I know she must be one hell of a girl to enamor you like this."

"I am not enamored," I growled.

She smiled again. "I know a thing or two about men, Tristan. I work with them all day, everyday, and I live with the most obnoxiously obvious of them all. I can tell when a man is in love." She chuckled. "Even if he shows little to no emotion."

"I am not in love," I insisted.

"Really?" she asked slyly. "Then what's that?" She nodded to the dagger which still sat in my hand on the table. "Those aren't Sarmatian or Roman symbols on that. That leads me to believe they might be Woad…and I hear the girl had a bit of a connection with them."

I took the dagger off the table, and dropped it into the side of my boot, staring Vanora down as I did so. I wanted to be anywhere but here. She was too observant for her own good. She would make a better replacement scout than Gawain.

"So tell me, what is it about her that drew you in?"

"I do not love her," I said insistently. "There is nothing about her that draws me anywhere. She saved my life, and that is the end of it."

"Hmm," she murmured to herself. "Let me guess: you notice things about her that you would never have even cared about in other women. You want to protect her even though she can take care of herself. You don't want to bed other women because to you they don't compare to her. She can piss you off more than any other person, but you still would rather be in her company than anyone else's. Am I right?"

I just stared at her unblinkingly, and her smile got wider the longer the silence stretched. I was seriously considering searching every inch of the fort for Bors, and forcing him to come and get her out of my presence. She was making me feel like I was under strict observation even though her eyes were wandering around the room, looking at the mess. With my careful control of what I thought and what I let people see, I had never felt so openly violated. It was like she was reading my mind, and I did not like it at all.

She took my continued lack of denial as a confirmation. "That's love, Tristan, and whether you like it or not, you only have two options. You can give it time and allow yourself to get over her, or you can go and get her. You have to choose one or the other because this little hoarding yourself in your room thing can't continue."

She stood then, pushing back her chair. "Besides, you will be free in a short time! I'll give you my advice, and tell you that you should move on. Soon you will have the whole world ahead of you for exploring, and I know that you won't want a woman trying to tie you down when you're just been freed."

She walked to the door, but turned back just before she opened it. "Oh, and I came here on my own, so don't try and attack Bors for this…or you'll have me to answer to."

She winked, and then she was gone. I stared at the door for a long time after she left, contemplating her words. I could move on, or I could go to her. I knew that Aderyn would most likely never want to see my face again, so it seemed redundant to ride all the way out there just so she could tell me to go.

That left me with one option, the one that I knew for sure I did not want to take. I would be the first to admit that I was a selfish man. I was possessive of what I felt belonged to me, and was not often willing to give anything up once I had it. I'd never really had Aderyn, not really, but that didn't mean I wanted to just let her go.

Maybe it was time for me to give up, for once in my life. Perhaps she would be better off where she was. I had nothing to offer her in the end. She had a home, certainty, and independence where she was, none of which she could have with me. She was naive, and didn't know that she would not be accepted well into this society. Women who could do for themselves were often frowned upon, and cruelly ostracized. There would be rumors of her here, and I knew that she wouldn't want to deal with it. All she could have with me is the menial existence of a soldier's woman.

I made my decision right there. I would leave her be, no matter how much I wanted not to. At the end of the day, she deserved to be happy and live the life she wanted. I wasn't sure if someone like me could give her that.

There was a familiar sound of flapping wings, and then my hawk came flying in the open window, landing with on the table lightly. She continued to flap her wings urgently, swinging them about like she was panicked.

"What's wrong, eh?" I asked her, holding out my arm. She hopped over, and dug her talons into my arm much harder than was necessary. "What is it?"

She screeched, and started to take flight while still on my arm so that she created long scratches in my skin. I gave no indication that I felt the pain, and murmured to her so she would calm. She didn't, just continued to pull my skin like she was trying to get back out the window and take me with her. There was something wrong, something very wrong, and she was trying to tell me what it was.

There was a pounding knock on the door that startled the bird, and she finally let go of my arm and went back out the window with an indignant cry of offense at being frightened. I answered the door right away, sensing that something bad was happening. Galahad stood on the other side, panting heavily.

"M-meeting!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. I slid out of the door, shutting it behind me and taking long strides to the meeting hall with the youngest knight on my tail. Galahad wouldn't have come sprinting if this meeting wasn't exigent.

Galahad and I were the last to arrive. The others all looked confused, except for Arthur who gave me a very grave look. I sat, waiting for it to get started. Arthur wasted no time.

"Knights," he said, making eye contact with each of us, "we have disturbing news from the morning patrol. There was a Saxon scouting party spotted."

"How many?" Gawain asked immediately.

"Between 20 and 30," Arthur said regretfully. "They were heavily armed, and showed signs of recent combat."

"Well, what the hell are they doing this far North?" Bors asked.

"Heading further North," Arthur answered, shifting a glance at me. "One of the men assigned to the patrol knew a bit of their native tongue. He discerned that they'd heard of Drenna's death, and they're going to take advantage of it. They are heading to the territory now to claim it while the Woads are still in discord over leadership."

Every eye in the room turned to me, some more obviously than others. I kept my eyes on Arthur even though I was itching to run from the room and get on Isolde. If the Saxons were heading to the Woads, Aderyn was standing between them and their destination. She was a sitting duck, just waiting to be found.

I controlled my rising panic, and said, "When will they arrive?"

"If they keep pace and don't camp…by tomorrow," Arthur replied.

It was silent for a few moments before Bors said, "Well, the girl can't get hurt." Leave it to Bors to point out the elephant in the room. "She has Woad protection."

"Not anymore," Lancelot reminded him. "Drenna's dead. Their second-in-command clearly didn't give a damn about her."

It was all the reminder I needed. I stood, not caring what they thought. I strode around the table as fast as I could without actually running, and was at the door when Arthur said, "Let's go, men."

I turned, watching as the others all stood to follow me. "What are you doing?" I asked. I must admit that I was surprised. I thought this would be another lone mission.

"We're gonna take out some Saxon scum!" Bors said, grinning evilly.

My eyes flicked to Arthur, who simply said, "The Saxons are a threat that we must eliminate. We go with you."

I nodded, deciding not to waste any time on wondering if that was Arthur's true motivation for this outing. That didn't matter now because Aderyn was in supreme danger if the Saxons found her. She couldn't survive this time, and had only done so on luck the last time a raid had come upon her home. And even then it hadn't been Saxons, the cruelest fighters we'd ever fought. I had decided not even an hour ago that I would let her go, but that didn't mean I would let her die.

I didn't care if we were outnumbered four to one. I wouldn't have cared if I'd had to go alone. When it came to her, I would face a whole army on my own. It was then that I realized I'd allowed her to trap my heart. She had it in such a vice grip that letting her go would have been impossible anyway. Everyone was right all along.

I loved her.

**It's short, but things are happening, I swear. Right there ^ is an admission of love, which will please some of you. ;P The next one starts all the action/suspense stuff.**

**I'd really, really like to thank everyone who reviews. You honestly have no idea how much it means to me, and I can't even tell you how much I love you all. :) Thank you!**


	24. Take This Life

**Wow, guys...wow. I apologize so much for posting that chapter yesterday. I read through it, and it was honestly the most disgraceful thing I've ever done. It was choppy, riddled with grammar errors like Swiss cheese, and I have no idea why I thought it was good enough to post. I am so embarrassed. I edited it, and this is me posting it again, new and hopefully improved.**

**After evaluating the situation, I think that all of that could have been prevented if I had a beta, so I think I might be interested in getting one now, but I'm not sure. Can someone PM or tell me in a review about the process? Like what happens when you get a beta, what you have to do, and all of that. And if anyone is interested in betaing this or knows a good beta, could you let me know? Thank you so much.**

_"She lives in a fairy tale, somewhere too far for us to find. Forgotten the taste and smell of a world that she's left behind. It's all about the exposure. The lens, I told her. The angles are all wrong now. She's ripping wings off of butterflies. Keep your feet on the ground while your head's in the crowd. Well, go get your shovel, and we'll dig a deep hole to bury the castle, bury the castle. So one day he found her crying, coiled up on the dirty ground. Her prince finally came to save her, and the rest they can figure out."-Paramore_

To say he was angry was an understatement. The Woad would never be able to understand how he'd failed. The plan had been perfect: tell the knights where their companion was, wait for them to go running to the rescue, and then tell Drenna that the knights broke the treaty. That would start a battle in which he could easily rid the world of his brother's murderer. Easy, right? Wrong.

It all came back to the girl, that damned Briton whore. She was a disgrace. It had been her fault twice that his plans for revenge had been foiled: on the battlefield when she hit him over the head right when he was about to put an end to the knight, and when she sprinted onto the field to stop Drenna from attacking. The worse part was that she wasn't even _trying_ to stop him; she did all of it on accident. The sword on his hip felt heavier at the thought of her, itching to slice itself through her skin.

The anger mostly came from the fact that he couldn't get his revenge now. The knight was gone, back to Hadrian's Wall where he belonged. Strangely enough, he wished he was back here. Just so he could kill him. He knew where the Wall was, but it would be ridiculously foolish to try and break through it's defenses. Standing outside of the gates and asking the guards if he could come in would be just as suicidal, as his tattoos made it obvious what he was.

He knew though that whatever injuries he could cause the Sarmatian and the girl would never be painful enough to pay for the loss of his brother anyway. Every second his heart ached, and all he wanted was for his brother to be there to laugh at him and tell him that he was just overreacting like he always used to when he would get worked up. There was no agony like losing someone you loved, and he could never make them feel like he did.

Something clicked, and he nearly fell over into the dirt at how brilliant it was. He could make the knight feel _exactly_ as he did. There was no pain like losing a person you loved…so he was just going to have to inflict that pain.

Right away it was obvious that he couldn't kill the knight. He was too good of a fighter, and it had only been luck with which he had been able to cut him so mortally in that first battle. That meant it was the girl he'd kill. That wouldn't be too hard. Drenna's continued protection over the years made her feel safe in her little hiding spot, and she would never see it coming. After she was dead, he would ride to the Wall at night, and leave her body at the gates. The knights would be called, of course, as they would think it was a security breach. They would know who it was, and he would have his revenge when the knight saw the dead body of the woman he loved.

He grinned to himself at the thought of seeing the emotionless man's face when he saw her broken body. This plan was even better than the first. The Sarmatian would have to live with the fact that it was his fault that she was dead, just like he was living with knowing that it was his fault his brother was dead.

The Woad knew that he would have to be more careful this time. He really wanted to see this plan through, and knew that if he had really thought over his last one instead of acting right away, it may have worked out differently. This time, he would plan it all out perfectly.

The Briton was going to die.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I was almost done packing for the Wall. Only when I was doing so did I realize just how little I had, and of that, I barely used any of it. Most of the clothes I had were either too small or so worn that they were tattered, almost to shreds. I rolled the decent ones up, and put them into one of Egryn's saddlebags. He was becoming increasingly excited, sensing that something big was happening. I attached my quiver of arrows and sword to the saddle along with my clothes. They were all I was bringing. I had no need for most of the things considered essential here. I planned to find work once I was there, so I could pay for anything else I would need.

I wasn't really sure how I felt. I was happy that I was finally able to take this step, but not ecstatic like I would have expected. Instead I felt a calm contentment which I'd never felt before. There was nothing besides that, but it was enough to keep a smile on my face.

I pulled the strap tighter on Egryn's saddle to ensure that nothing fell off. I'd never ridden more than a few miles, so I wasn't particularly certain what to expect from long journeys yet. My hands still looked like they'd been mauled by a bear, and were heavily bandaged. I was just hoping I could keep hold of the reins at this point.

"I suppose we'll find out," I muttered to myself. I patted Egryn on the head, and turned around for one last look.

This was the cottage where I grew up. I was born here, I experienced the best and worst times of my life, and even fell in love in this one little house. This place had more turbulent memories than most cities could ever hold. I approached, and slowly touched the doorframe, running my fingers over the dent I made with my boot when I took out my anger on it while I was trying to fix the hinge and accidentally hit my thumb with the hammer. I stepped over the threshold, and looked around at the room I'd made my life in for the past fourteen years. I could see more dents in the walls, ones from where I was angry and threw things or was killing spiders or had fallen over and landed hard. Every single nook, cranny, and crevice in this room seemed to belong to a special memory in my head. I circled my way around to the bedroom that used to belong to Ursus, skimming my fingers over the rough texture of the wall as I went.

I stood in the doorway of my older brother's room, looking at the meager amount of things he'd left behind. Being in here after my visit to their graves made everything seem much different even though nothing in the room had changed.

My eyes landed on his bow. For a man new to the carpentry trade, it was very well made. I remembered how he used to string it over his back, keeping it with him everywhere even though he didn't have anything to shoot. It was still in perfect condition nevertheless. I picked it up, and weighed it in my hand. It was lighter than the old bow Drenna gave me, and this one wasn't tainted with Drenna's blood. I slung it over my shoulder, deciding I would take it. I couldn't bring everything I wanted with me but this was an essential. I did need a bow.

Next I went to the room I shared with Melita, and smiled at the little etched pictures all over the walls. I touched the one where the two little girls held hands again, deciding that it would be a piece of me and my sister left behind forever. I was about to leave when I caught sight of something white, and turned back. Melita's stuffed toy still sat on her pillow. I walked to her bed, took a cloth from my pocket, and picked it up, wrapping it tightly in the fabric. One more tiny memoir of my sister couldn't weigh me down. I tucked it into the front of my tunic.

Lastly I went to my parents' room, the source of my nightmares for almost all of my life. I stared at every inch of the room that my eyes could reach, not really looking for anything, but committing it to memory. I'd confronted the demons this room held. I no longer felt afraid.

"Nad ydych yn rheoli mi bellach," I whispered, backing out.

I went back to Egryn, who was waiting patiently. He gave me a questioning look, and I smiled at him as I tucked Melita's toy in a saddlebag, and attached Ursus's bow near my sword.

"Time to start our new lives, boy," I told him.

I had both of my hands on Egryn's back, and was poised to mount him when I heard something. I froze, still tensed to leap into the saddle. I listened intently at the sound of approaching footsteps…lots of them. They stopped without warning, and I thought for a moment that I'd imagined it. Then they kicked back up, full force. I turned around and saw dozens of large men in thick furs sprinting towards me with weapons raised. One of them shot an arrow that spooked Egryn. He reared, neighing loudly, and then shot off into the woods without me. I cursed, knowing I had no steed and no sword. All I had to defend myself was the lone dagger in my boot. I bent down, and retrieved it, tossing it deftly at the group of intruders. It hit one of them in the chest. He yelled in agony, and fell down dead.

In the back of my mind I realized that I'd killed my first man. I didn't have time to really dawdle over the thought as at that moment the first man got to me. He swung his big sword towards my middle, and I leapt back just in time. I only just ducked another man trying to behead me, and punched him in the groin while I was still crouched down. He dropped next to me, and I rolled out of the way of the punch he aimed at my face. I jumped back up, slamming my fist into the ear of another, and steadily backing away as they all swiped and made efforts to get me.

One of them yelled something in their language, a frustrated oath. I wasn't sure how I'd lasted this long already. I seemed to be much quicker and graceful when under pressure.

Something smashed into the back of my head. The blood roared in my ears, and spots exploded in my vision. I stumbled around to face whomever it was, but their face swam before me. I raised my fist to hit him, but he hit me again with the hilt of his sword, in the the side of the head this time. My vision went black before I even hit the ground.

/\/\/\/\/\

My head was pounding so hard that it felt like someone was shaking me. I could feel a strange dull throb in my wrists as well, and tried to flex my fingers. It caused more pain, so I stopped. The ground I was sitting on was hard and cold. My eyes opened slowly, and I tried to remember what happened that caused all this pain. I looked around and saw groups of men milling around the clearing, speaking to one another in a guttural language. I blinked, expecting them to just be a product of my befuddled mind. They weren't, and didn't go away when my eyes were open again.

Suddenly I remembered: the men running at me, Egryn sprinting off, and me being hit in the head. I realized that I was tied to the post that I'd used to hang wet laundry. My eyes gazed over my shoulder, and I winced at the state of my hands. The men had used thin wire to tie me, and it was cutting into my skin. My hands had already been on the mend, but now they were beginning to bleed again.

I turned my attention back to the trespassers, watching as they took things of value like the old tools and weapons from the house. No one noticed that I was awake yet, and I took the time to observe them. They were all dressed in thick furs and battle armor, some of which had blood caked on it already. They were all rather massive, but that may have been the amount of layers they wore.

"Well, well, well," said a deep voice with a thick accent. "The little heathen wakes."

I looked up at the man standing over me. He was the biggest of them all, and had the evilest look in his eyes. His lighter brown hair fell to his lower back, and his face was clean shaven. He had the brightest green eyes I'd ever seen, and there was a scar on his forehead in the shape of some sort of rune. Someone had etched it into his skin rather than using ink. When I just continued to sneer at him, he chuckled, drawing the attention of the others.

"We did not expect to come across such a pretty little devil when we came to this country," he continued. "Especially one that was so…evasive."

I spat a string of insults at him in the Celtic language, spitting on his boots once I was done. All signs of amusement cleared from his face, and the others' changed to anticipatory giddiness.

He grabbed a handful of my hair, and yanked backwards so that I was nose to nose with him as he bent down towards my face. "Little whore," he growled. "You will pay me the respect I deserve as a man and as your superior."

It was difficult to speak at the angle he had my head tipped, but I managed to croak, "I did when I spat on you."

He shoved me away from him, and my head ricocheted off the post behind me. He was scowling menacingly as he crouched before me.

"You play with forces you cannot comprehend," he growled. "You are at the mercy of the Saxons. You should be more careful about what you say."

I resisted the urge to shudder. These men were Saxons, the most brutal of all the nomadic tribes invading this land. They killed every civilization they came across, cutting down even infants so that they knew no human who wasn't of their blood would inhabit the places they conquered. Drenna had spoken of them with the sort of loathing that I wasn't used to from her. These demons were from the same place as the ones who'd come here fourteen years ago, but not of the same tribe. Even those men were considered more merciful than the cold-blooded Saxons.

"I will not hold my tongue," I growled. My logic was that they were going to kill me anyway, so I might as well get a few biting comments in before I died. "You are the spawn of everything that is evil in this world! I do not care if I am at your mercy! You are bottom-feeding vermin that deserve to be cut down like animals!"

He grabbed my chin harshly, fingers digging into my cheeks. My whole face was nearly covered by his large hand.

"SILENCE!" he roared. When I complied with a glare, he groped for something in the inside of his furs, keeping his eyes locked with mine. He pulled out a sharp dagger that had a wicked curve at the end. My eyes widened, and I tried to pull my face away. He managed to hold on to me, and brought the blade closer and closer to my face.

"Perhaps I can find a more persuasive method of keeping you in line," he growled.

I thought he was going to cut my right eye out, but instead he brought the tip of the blade to the outside corner of my eye, and started to draw a line down my face. The pain was white hot, and I screamed with it as he drew a curved line around my cheekbone to the corner of my mouth, like a crescent moon. I could feel the blood dripping down my face, and squirmed at the grip he had on my face.

"BASTARD!" I screamed, thrashing wildly on the ground in pain so that the wires cut deeper into my wrists. I still refused to let him think he'd won. "SON OF THE FILTHIEST WHORE!"

"You obviously need more reminders to _hold your damn tongue_!" he shouted. "Maybe without that particular body part you won't even need to be reminded!"

He was lunging for me, intending to cut my tongue from my mouth when an arrow flew over my head, and embedded in his left eye. He froze, his remaining eye glazed over, and he fell, dead.

There was a series of deafening battle cries, and the remaining Saxons gawked at whoever was behind me as they came running to my rescue.

*+*Tristan*+*

I pushed down the immense feeling of foreboding that had gathered in my chest, trying not to think of what could be happening to Aderyn right now. I would get to her in time. We would cut down the Saxons before they even got to her. My eyes scanned the landscape from Isolde's back, looking for all signs of the scouting party. I saw their footprints, going right in the direction of what used to be Drenna's territory. They either weren't attempting to hide their presence, or were absolutely terrible scouts.

The tracks weren't too fresh, which meant they had a good head start on us. They obviously hadn't camped which meant it was very possible that they were either going to come across her soon or they already had.

I collected the memories of the Pagan gods my mother used to tell me stories of, and for the first time since I'd left Sarmatia, I prayed to every single one I remembered. I prayed that we would get there in time, that they would skirt around her property, that they would all just drop dead…anything, anything that would ensure that she would be alright.

We finally came to the beginning of Drenna's territory, and the tracks here were much fresher. They'd passed by here not even an hour ago. We had to go slower because of the trees, but I pushed Isolde as fast as I could without running into anything.

I heard Arthur shouting orders for everyone to spread out through the trees to cover more ground. I kept one eye on the footprints, and the other on the trees ahead of me for any sign of a Saxon. There would by no mercy from me for any of them.

I didn't have time to contemplate what was happening before something large and black shot out of the trees. Isolde reared in surprise, and I only just managed to hold on so I wouldn't be bucked off.

Isolde was back on all fours, but prancing nervously. The others had stopped, and were coming over to me. The large black thing turned out to be Egryn. He was neighing with a look of wild fear in his eyes. I jumped off of Isolde and grabbed his reins, calming him down once he realized it was me. He was still for a few moments, long enough for me to register that he was saddled and his saddlebags were packed. He suddenly started to back away, tugging me with him. He was whinnying crazily, trying to get me to follow him.

"Isn't that the girl's?" Bors asked, eyes on Egryn.

"Something bad is happening," Dagonet said, staring around in the trees. I silently agreed.

There was a piercing shriek that echoed all around us, making my hair stand on end. I didn't look to see if the others would follow before I sprinted on towards the sound, my heart racing. I knew that scream.

She was shouting now, a procession of unladylike curses. I broke through the trees, and saw her tied to a post, surrounded by the Saxons. One of them was crouched in front of her with an already bloodied knife in his hand, poised to attack again.

I heard a twang, and then an arrow flew past me and slammed into the Saxon's eye. I recognized the black feathers that Galahad used for the fletch of all his arrows. The Saxon fell dead almost instantly, and Bors let out a crazed battle cry as the remaining barbarians registered our presence. They let out roars of their own, and charged to meet us.

I withdrew my sword from the sheath on my back, and cleanly cut through one Saxon without even looking at him. I rushed to Aderyn, kneeling behind her. I didn't speak as I took out her dagger and used it to cut the wires from her bloody wrists. She had bandages covering her hands.

She leapt up without even glancing behind her, and relieved the dead Saxon in front of her of his sword before charging into the fighting with a ferocity that surprised me. I didn't have more time to worry about her though, as I began to slice through any Saxon that dared to engage me.

-()-()-()-()-

He'd planned the days and moments out perfectly, knowing the times when she normally woke up and came outside, and figured out the exact amount of time it would take to ride to Hadrian's Wall to dump her body. He'd studied the guards at the Wall, noting the times when they switched patrols, leaving the gate unoccupied. It was foolproof, but he hadn't counted on the Saxons. That was a twist.

Initially, he felt glee when he saw them. He wouldn't even have to kill her! He would only have to retrieve and dump her body…or whatever was left of it once the Saxons were through with it. The evil smile on his face grew every time abuse befell the Briton courtesy of the leader of the Saxon scouting party. But when the barbarian cut open her face, he winced as her screams grated on his eardrums.

An arrow shot from apparently nowhere, and took down the man about to cut the girl's tongue out. The Woad's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull as none other than the Sarmatian knights came streaming out of the trees, taking down the Saxons like there was nothing to it. He was outraged beyond belief. His plan was ruined again!

He watched as his brother's murderer kneeled behind the girl and cut off the wire on her wrists. She leapt up and started to fight a Saxon with a surprising amount of skill. Drenna had taught her well. His eyes followed her fluid movements, the way she used her anger as fuel rather than a distraction. The Woad influence in her style was comically obvious.

Some of the Saxons took off into the trees, unbeknownst to the knights. His eyes followed the path they took around the back of the small house, running for their lives. It was pathetic, but beneficial…perhaps his plan wasn't ruined after all.

He laid in wait behind the tree, clenching his bow tightly. He only had to wait for the right moment to strike. He wouldn't be foiled again this time. His vengeance was just on the horizon, and he was almost able to taste it.

**Nad ydych yn rheoli mi bellach:**__You do not control me now

**I hope that was better. :\ I still can't believe I posted that one yesterday. What the hell was I thinking? Urgh. I hope this gets a better response...**


	25. Empty Inside

**Hello everyone! I hope I still have more readers than the four reviews I got for that disaster known as chapter 24. I have no idea why I thought that was acceptable. In my defense, I was relieved that exams were over, and I was going to a party later that I was also excited for...never mind. There are literally no amount of excuses acceptable for that. But for those of you who didn't get the memo, I rewrote it and posted it again. It's (hopefully) much better, so if you'd like, you can hit the back button and read it again. Nothing different happens, but it would make me feel better if that wasn't your memory of such a climatic chapter, haha.**

**I hope this is much better than the last one! It's a bit short, but...whatever. This is dedicated to Tony who sent me a not-really-a-review review that made me smile. Her dedication deserves a dedication! Haha. (:**

_"When your tears are spent on your last pretense, and your tired eyes refuse to close and sleep in your defense. When it's in your spine like you've walked for miles, and the only thing you want is just to be still for awhile. If your heart wears thin, I will hold you up, and I will hide you when it gets too much. I'll be right beside you. When you're overwhelmed, and you've lost your breath. When the space between the things you know is blurry nonetheless. When you try to speak, but you make no sound. And the words you want are out of reach, but they've never been so loud. I will stay. Nobody will break you. Trust in me, trust in me. Don't pull away. Just trust in me. Trust in me 'cause I'm just trying to keep it together. 'Cause I could do worse, and you could do better."-Marianas Trench_

*+*Aderyn*+*

Someone cut the wires off my wrists, but I didn't turn to thank them. Instead I grabbed the sword off the man who'd cut my face, and put it to good use.

It surprised me at first that it seemed so easy to end another person's life. I hadn't killed before today, but it came effortlessly as I used my rage as fuel to raise the heavy sword. I was feeling a bit weak, but my anger at these men cancelled it out. A Saxon swung sideways at me, leaving himself wide open in the mean time. I cleanly relieved his shoulders of his head, and moved onto another without even blinking.

It was the revenge I'd never gotten. I used the anger I still had over my family and Drenna and all the unjustices I'd suffered myself, and I put them into every sword stroke. I was getting the last of the negativity from my system.

A man stepped in front of me with a nasty snarl, swinging his sword. He had small black eyes, a dark, furry beard, but was bald on his head. He resembled a half-shaved lion…

It wasn't the man that haunted my dreams, but it looked enough like him that I could easily pretend. This felt like my final chance to defeat he who took everything from me, and I would be damned if I didn't take it. I blocked his swing, and then used all of the force I possessed to slam his sword into the ground with it at the same time. He hung onto it though, so while he struggled to disengage, I kicked him in his ribs. He yelped, and backed away. I swung, and he blocked, body-slamming me away from him. I stumbled, and he lashed out. The tip of his blade caught my forearm, but I didn't even register it. I lunged again, catching him in the calf. He roared at blood sprayed from the wound, and swung at me blindly. He wasn't paying attention to what he was doing because of his pain, but managed to catch me on the hand with the flat side of his blade. The sword slipped from my grip, but he was limping backwards. I growled low in my throat, and leapt, tackling him to the ground and making his sword fly from his hand.

I shrieked like a crazed animal, and punched him repeatedly in the face. I could feel the wounds in my hands opening again, but all I could see was this man who so resembled the man who'd led the raid that took my life from me.

I beat him until his face was a barely recognizable mass of blood. His nose was pulverized, and I could tell I'd probably dislocated some fingers. I noticed a dagger on his hip, and took it, slashing his throat in one stroke with a scream. His blood sprayed up at me, and I flinched away for the first time.

I stood up off of him, turning away from what I'd done. I dropped the dagger, and now that the adrenaline was ebbing, even that small motion pained my hands. I killed six men today…it was so bittersweet. I now knew that I could defend myself if need be. I didn't need anyone to protect me. On the other hand, I could never again claim to be untainted. I took lives. Yes, they would have taken mine if things had gone differently, but I couldn't help but feel a tiny sliver of regret...

I remembered then that people had helped me. I whirled, expecting to see Woads, but froze, mouth gaping open at the sight of Arthur, Tristan, and the rest of the Sarmatian knights. They were all checking to see if all of the Saxons were dead, except for one.

Tristan was standing about three yards away from me with his sword still hanging by his side. His face was nearly covered in blood that wasn't his own, and his hair hung in his face. It was still plaited. His eyes regarded me curiously, running over me like he was trying to decide what to do.

Despite how disturbed I was in that moment, the sight of him made my heart leap and my stomach do a backflip. He was here. He came back for me.

A slow smile started to form on my face at the sight of him. It felt slightly hysterical, and my mind was in a jumble. But Tristan was here, and I was still alive.

His name was on the tip of my tongue, and I took a step towards him.

*+*Tristan*+*

She turned around like she sensed my gaze on her, and glanced at the others before looking at me. I ran my eyes over every inch of her, assessing her injuries. A few bruises, a slash on her face and arm, and her hands were pretty mangled. She would live though. I got here in time. She was alright. She was breathing, and she was so close but so far away at the same time. I wanted to close the distance.

Suddenly the corners of her mouth started to turn up until she was smiling radiantly at me. The sight made all of the pain from leaving her behind fade and die. She took a step towards me, but there was a whizzing sound like a bee flying. Suddenly she jerked forward like she'd been pushed. Her smile fell, and she looked confused, her eyes still on mine. She tried to take another step forward, but she stumbled. Her hand reached over her shoulder, and her back turned towards me. My heart fell to my toes.

There was an arrow sticking out of her back. She was falling fast now, and I raced forward to catch her just before she landed on her face. My eyes searched for the culprit, and met the gaze of a Woad standing just on the edge of the clearing. I hadn't noticed him at all, as he was standing half behind a tree. With a jolt I recognized him as the one that attacked just before Drenna died, and the very same one who'd caused the wound in my chest that brought Aderyn and I together.

"A life for a life," he called to me. "You killed my brother, someone I loved, and now I have killed someone you love."

If it had been any other time I would have tortured him and then let him die slowly, but there were more pressing concerns, like the blood blossoming all over Aderyn's back. She was starting to gasp in pain.

I was never one to lose my head, but I could feel the panic building in my chest. I couldn't lose her, not now.

"Dagonet," I said desperately. I meant for it to come out as a yell, but it was barely audible. He came over, and dropped down next to me.

"On her side," Dagonet commanded. I laid Aderyn gently on the ground so that her back faced Dagonet. Her eyes sought me out, and I clutched her shoulder so she could locate me.

"Am I shot?" she whimpered. I nodded, and she groaned. "I thought I would make it this time."

"You will," I said adamantly.

I heard ripping fabric, signifying that her tunic was ruined. Dagonet gestured for me to hold her down because he had to pull out the arrow. The others had crowded around now, and Gawain was giving Dagonet the satchel he kept his healing supplies in. I put one hand on her thigh and the other on her bicep and held her tightly. Dagonet jerked the arrow out with a sharp tug, and Aderyn wailed loudly, struggling against my hands unsuccessfully.

I wanted to distract her and make sure she stayed conscious, so I picked up her hand. "What happened?" I asked, squeezing her hand gently so she would understand what I meant.

Her unfocused eyes landed on me, and she grimaced when she saw her own appendage, and murmured, "I pulled the boards down. I finally went into the rooms."

I saw Lancelot and Arthur exchange skeptical looks, but I knew exactly what she was talking about. She'd ventured to the bedrooms in her house that she boarded up after her family died.

"Would it have been too much work to cut them off instead of using your bare hands?" I questioned.

She smiled faintly. "You act like we have never met."

One side of my mouth quirked up almost imperceptibly, but I knew she caught it. She winced when Dagonet pressed a cloth into her back, and clamped down on my fingers with the hand I'd been examining. I squeezed it back, pushing her hair out of her eyes with the other hand. I lifted her chin so I could examine the cut on her face, resisting the urge to snarl in rage. The Saxon had cut her from the corner of her eye to her mouth in a crescent shape. I wanted to tear the man apart for marking her. He was lucky he was already dead. An arrow to the eye was humane compared to what he would have received if I got to him first.

I ripped the sleeve of her tunic, and held it to the cut. She moved her hand to cover mine on her cheek, and gazed at me through half-closed eyes. Dagonet sucked in his breath when he saw her hands.

"You need to bind her wrists now," he said urgently, handing me some bandages. "She is losing blood too fast."

I let go of her cheek and started to bind her wrists as tight as possible without hurting her. I'd barely registered the blood sliding down her forearms, too concerned about the mark on her face and wound in her back.

When they were bound, she whispered my name to catch my attention. Her eyes were closing.

"Stay awake," I said firmly, raising my voice louder than normal.

"Don't leave me again," she mumbled, ignoring what I said.

"Aderyn!" I snapped, but it was too late, her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowing.

"We have to get her to the Wall, right now," Dagonet said, packing up his supplies. "I have done what I can, but she needs a fully trained healer."

I didn't waste any time lifting her into my arms. She was so cold all the time that I wasn't sure if I should be concerned or if this was normal. I strode back to the horses as fast as I could without jostling her too much. When I stood in front of Isolde, I realized I couldn't actually get on the horse with her in my arms.

"Here," Gawain said, coming up next to me with his arms held out. I eyed him warily, but handed her over, careful to make sure he wasn't touching the wound in her back. I jumped onto Isolde, and then helped Gawain lift her into the saddle in front of me, locking my arms around her waist and clutching the reins in my hands.

"What about her horse?" Galahad asked, nodding to Egryn who was walking in a circle nervously.

I whistled to him, and he came over. "He will follow," I told them, already starting to ride away with Egryn on my tail.

*+*Arthur*+*

This was the closest I'd seen to Tristan fully exposing an emotion. He did give us glimpses of what he was feeling or thinking, but never the whole weight of it. Now his eyes seemed manic as we rode back to the Wall, his arms latched around the girl in front of him. Her horse was following Tristan closely, neighing nervously and tossing his mane every few seconds. I had a feeling he could sense the state of his mistress.

We rode quickly, but not at the sprint of before. We didn't want to disturb her injuries any further. I saw Lancelot shooting furtive glances at the two of them every few minutes, like he wanted everyone to know that he still didn't trust the Briton girl. I wasn't too sure of her either, but I acknowledged that it would be against everything I believed in to leave an injured woman to fend for herself. I would have taken her back even if she intended to kill us all.

Gawain was the one to ride ahead this time, as Tristan was occupied. I could see the relief on the blond's face when I told him to. I didn't blame him. The silence between us all was awkward and obvious, as everyone clearly wasn't too sure of the girl. The only ones who didn't seem bothered were Dagonet and Tristan, who both just wanted to get her back to the fort in order to get her injuries healed.

I rode up next to Tristan, and looked down at the girl. She was deathly pale, and was covered in blood. I wasn't sure if most of it was hers or the Saxons' who she'd killed. The bandages on her wrists were already soaked through. Her face looked peaceful despite it all, and that alone was worrying. I'd seen that peace on many a man's face…just as they were getting close to passing into the afterlife.

I glanced at Tristan, who had his eyes fixed ahead of him. I knew that it wouldn't bode well for him if she died. I dropped back so that I was next to Dagonet, and gave him a pointed look.

"The wound is deep," he murmured quietly. "She was already losing too much blood from her wrists, major veins."

"How long?" I asked gravely.

He took a deep breath. "If we do not get back to the Wall within three hours, I can say for certain that she will die."

*+*Tristan*+*

I felt like at any second I might just snap. I'd been pacing for what felt like years in front of the infirmary door, but no one came out to tell me what was going on. The other knights hadn't followed me when I bypassed the keep to ride straight to the infirmary. The streets further past the stables were narrow, and I nearly barreled over several residents in my determination to get Aderyn to safety. I saw people gaping at her as we passed, but I didn't have the time or concentration to glare at them.

When I burst through the doors carrying her, the strict old healer, Severina, told me which bed to put her in, and then had her son and helper, Desiderius, kick me back out. He gave me an apologetic look as he shut the door on me. Since then, I hadn't been able to sit still. Sometimes I would stand just outside the door, sometimes I would lean against the wall, but I never stayed one way for long. Gawain came to tell me that Egryn was fine in the stables, and that he'd taken Isolde back there as well. I nodded to him dismissively, and he left.

It wasn't long after that Dagonet came. I stared at him, waiting to hear what he would tell me so that I could go back to pacing. He said nothing though, only sat down on the bench outside the doors. I understood that he was waiting with me, and went back to pacing.

It had been hours since then, and still no news. Dagonet had remained sitting patiently on the bench, unobtrusively offering me support. Every second that it was dead silent on the other side of the doors made me fear more and more. If she died after all of this, I didn't know what I would do.

I stopped pacing, pulled her knife from my boot, and held it tightly, running one of my thumbs over the dull blade. I thought of when I pressed it to her neck that night in the stables, and felt blinding rage directed at myself. How could I have ever thought of killing her?

The doors to the infirmary creaked open, and Severina poked her head out. I waited with bated breath as she looked at Dagonet, not even noticing me.

"You here for the girl?" she asked him. He looked at me, and she followed his gaze. I put the dagger back into my boot quickly, and strode over to her.

"Ah, there you are," she said, stepping fully out of the door.

"How is she?" I asked. The look on her face made my stomach flip uncomfortably.

**...*dodges flying objects thrown by readers* I'm sorry! I really couldn't resist this cliffhanger! It wrote itself, honestly!**

**Anyway, there are pictures of Severina and Desiderius up on the Tumblr if you'd like to take a look. :)**

**Thanks for the reviews and the alerts and the favorites guys! I can't wait until my dedication A/N at the end of this so that I can give you all the proper amount of love! You deserve it! :D**


	26. I'm Already Dead

**Hello there, everyone! How've you all been? Hope everyone's getting pumped up for summer. I definitely know I am! School has been getting old since September.**

**I would like to acknowledge to my woooonderful beta for this chapter, ****Girl in the Library Corner!**** I was in serious doubt about this one, and she helped out a lot, so this chapter is dedicated to her. :) She has a story up called "Destruction in the Gift", which you should all go read the second you're finished with this! Thank you again, Katie! :D**

**On a personal note, the temperature in my room right now is relatively close to the surface of the sun. I'm dying of heatstroke, and the air conditioner is broken and will stay broken until Thursday. :\ On top of that, there's nine people in this godforsaken **_**four-bedroom**_** house. This is unnatural. I'm going to start eliminating people like on Survivor. My brother will be the first voted off the island.**

_"I am finding out that maybe I was wrong, that I've fallen down. And I can't do this alone. Stay with me. This is what I need. Please. Sing us a song, and we'll sing it back to you. We could sing our own, but what it would be without you? I am nothing now, and it's been so long since I've heard a sound, the sound of my only hope. This time I will be listening. This heart, it beats, beats for only you. This heart, it beats, beats for only you. This heart, it beats, beats for only you. My heart is yours. Please don't go now. Please don't fade away."-Paramore_

*+*Tristan*+*

Severina sighed frustratedly, like my question was bothersome. "She will live," she replied. All of the weight on my shoulders dropped off immediately. She was alive. "The arrow only just embedded in the skin, nothing major. There will be a significant amount of scarring, however. Her wrists were cut pretty cleanly, and there was nothing much I could do for that slash on her cheek. And may I ask why she had near two hundred splinters in her hands?"

"Not important," I replied gruffly.

"Who is she?" she snapped. "I do not want some damn Woad in my infirmary because then they'll all come swarming in trying to protect their own. And don't lie to me, boy! I saw the tattoos!"

"She is not a Woad," Dagonet answered, sensing my building frustration. Severina relaxed. She trusted Dagonet the most out of all of the knights. She only truly respected people who had healing experience.

"Good, because I would toss her out now if she was," she said haughtily. "What is her name?"

"Aderyn," I responded through gritted teeth.

"Odd," she commented, glancing over her shoulder. "I suppose you will want to see her now."

I didn't answer, knowing that she could sense my impatience. She opened the door and ushered me in like every move I made annoyed her. She had been like this since I'd known her, always acting like everything everyone did was beneath her. She was the reason most of the knights came to Dagonet for their healing needs.

I walked swiftly to the bed Aderyn was in, and stared down at her. The most noticeable thing was the bandage covering the left half of her head, hiding the injured side of her face from view. She was still deathly pale. Severina had cleaned the blood and dirt from her hair and skin, making it much more noticeable. Her hands were heavily bandaged, as were her wrists. I used to prefer it when she was asleep because she couldn't talk, but now I would have done anything just to see her open her eyes.

"She lost a good amount of blood," Severina said as she bustled around the other side of the bed and started to clean up a pile of blood-soaked rags. "She'll be out for awhile because of it, and that's a good thing too. I would not want to be her when the pain reliever wears off."

Desiderius approached, and took the rags from his mother. He nodded in greeting at Dagonet and I, and then strode off. He was normally the sort that talked too much when you didn't want to hear it, so there must have been something in my eyes that warned him off this time.

"I should go tell Arthur of her condition," Dagonet said. I nodded without looking at him, and he clapped his hand on my shoulder before he left.

I must have stood there staring at her for near an hour before I started to frustrate Severina. She approached every couple of minutes, checked over Aderyn, and then would make a frustrated sound and glare at me before walking away. Finally she brought over a chair and slammed it down next to the bed, telling me that I might as well sit down and stay out of her way if I didn't plan on leaving. I scowled at her as I sat, not in the mood to be tolerant of her unpleasant demeanor.

I kept my eyes on Aderyn's face as I leaned forward in my chair, looking for any signs that she would wake. She remained absolutely still though, and I had to train my eyes on the rise and fall of her chest a few times to ensure that she still lived.

Desiderius made his way over, casting nervous glances at me as he did so. When he was next to her on the other side of the bed, he checked the bandages on her wrists and then lifted the one on her face to see if the stitches still held.

"What happened to her?" he asked. I didn't spare him a glance. I'd been here many times, and this was the first he'd ever spoken directly to me. I may have intimidated him, and never tried anything to ease his discomfort. I actually liked that people kept their distance from me.

"Saxons," I said gruffly, hoping that would be the end of the exchange.

"Is she a Saxon?" he asked curiously. Looks like my wishes won't be granted today.

"No."

His fingers gently turned her head so that the feather tattoo on her neck was in the light, and touched it with his other hand. I finally turned my attention to his face, eyes narrowing.

"You looking to lose those fingers?" I snapped. He let go of her instantly, red blooming on his cheeks.

"Sorry," he mumbled, scurrying away. I glared at his back until he was gone. He couldn't have been more than twenty-one winters, even younger than Galahad. He needed to learn to keep his eyes where they belonged: away from my woman.

I looked back at Aderyn, and saw the hawk pendant still dangling around her neck. She still had it. That cemented it in my mind.

She was mine.

*+*Arthur*+*

Dagonet came walking into the meeting hall where the rest of us were convened to wait for news of the girl. It had been silent except for a few stray comments. The mood around us was very solemn. We'd arrived just a little bit before the three hours that Dagonet had condemned as her time window, and Tristan hadn't returned since he'd rode off past the stables. Gawain said he was pacing in front of the infirmary like a caged lion.

I waited until Dagonet took his seat before asking, "How does she fare?"

"She will live," he answered instantly. "There will be scarring on her face and wrists, but the wound in her back is not fatal. She is still unconscious from blood loss, but it should not be long before she wakes up."

I nodded, drinking that in. She would live. Now the questions became more complicated. It was quite obvious that she wasn't Roman, so that would raise questions amongst the residents of the fort. Her tattoos were of clear Woad design, which would cause a lot of problems. The people might think we were allying with the Woads and rebel, or they might just lash out at the girl personally. It was obvious that Tristan would not be too forgiving to anyone who took out their aggression on her, and whatever revenge he may partake in could end with him being executed for murder charges. It seemed like any possible situation I could think of ended in disaster.

"Arthur," Lancelot said, making me look up at him. "What exactly are you planning to do with her now that she is here?"

I breathed deeply, and sat down. I felt so tired lately. There seemed to be so many problems and so few solutions that would be beneficial to everyone. I could tell by the looks on the men's faces that they could sense my inner turmoil.

When I continued to be silent, Dagonet spoke. "You cannot send her back once she is well."

"Why can't he?" Galahad asked.

"Whether or not Tristan chooses to acknowledge it, he needs her here," Dagonet explained. "Do you remember all the fights he got into with the Romans when he first came back?"

"We only have a few months left until our service is up," Galahad argued. "After that he can ride off and be with whomever the hell he wants."

"The pact has nothing to do with this," Dagonet responded calmly. "The question is where the girl goes once she is well."

"She has to leave," Gawain declared as if it were the most simple thing in the world. "The people won't want her within a hundred miles of here once they catch sight of those tattoos. They will think she is a Woad, with good reason."

"She is a Briton," Bors jumped in suddenly. "She is one of these people. She's not a Woad, no matter what they think. Let her do whatever the hell she wants; she has a right to as a native of the bloody country."

"He is right," I said finally, drawing all attention to me. "It is her right to travel where she pleases in her own lands. When she wakes, we will let her make her own decision on where to stay."

The others nodded in agreement, and even Gawain mumbled his acquiescence. It surprised me that Lancelot stayed out of the dispute when he was so vocal against Tristan the last time. He was the first to leave, striding out of the room purposefully.

As the rest of the men got up to leave, I stayed at the table, running my hands through my hair in frustration. When I returned to Rome when the fifteen years were up, the only difficult decision I planned to make was whether to drink wine or ale.

*+*Tristan*+*

I hadn't been sitting for very long before I heard someone enter the infirmary. I didn't look at them, figuring it was someone with an injury or ailment for Severina to look at. A chair was placed next to me, and someone dropped into it heavily. I finally looked.

Lancelot was sitting there leisurely, as if this happened all the time. He crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at Aderyn critically. I glared at him, daring him to make a comment about the situation. I wouldn't restrain myself anymore; I felt close to cracking under the pressure as it was.

"I thought you should know that Arthur has decided to let her decide her own fate when she wakes," he said casually, avoiding my eyes. "She will be able to choose whether she stays or leaves the Wall."

"She will stay," I said immediately.

He sighed. "Do you really think that is a good idea?"

I didn't react at all to his words, just continued to glare at him. The thought of his accusations when I first returned were making my blood boil, and knowing that Aderyn would not have been left alone if it weren't for him killing Drenna was making the idea of punching him seem more and more appealing. She wouldn't even be in this condition if it weren't for his rash actions that day. She would have left with me.

"Tristan," he said in a patronizing tone, "I know you think that you are helping her by having her stay here, but it will be the opposite. She acts like, talks like, and even has tattoos like a Woad. If the Britons, by some miracle, accept her, then she will have the Romans to reckon with. She has never left that hole in the forest. She will not understand-"

"You," I interrupted him angrily, "do not know her. You talk like she is an ignorant little damsel in distress. She is not."

"I didn't come here to fight with you again," he said coldly. "I am here to tell you that I was wrong for accusing you of deserting."

I stayed silent, unable to believe he'd just said that. I'd known Lancelot for almost fifteen years, and never had I heard him admit he was wrong, even when it was proven so.

"We have fought beside each other for all of these years," he said, "and I have never had any reason to expect that you would ever abandon the pact. I should never have accused you of it in the first place. You just need to understand that tension was high while you were gone. We didn't want to bury another brother, and I was convinced that we would find your body. To find you perfectly well in the one place we had not looked for you was a…bit of a shock."

I nodded slowly, taking that in. It seemed like since I had returned, the men had become more vocal on their opinions of me. I was not entirely sure whether or not that was a good thing.

When I looked back to Lancelot again, he smirked. "You realize this makes you as bad as Bors? When she wakes, you will be on just as short a leash as he is." I narrowed my eyes, and he laughed as he stood back up. "Just something to think about." He winked before turning to leave.

I returned my focus to Aderyn after I heard the door close, and tilted my head to the side when I noticed her eyes flicking back and forth wildly beneath her lids. I hoped she wasn't dreaming of her family's murder. I doubt she wanted to start screaming in the middle of the infirmary.

I was getting hungry, but I knew I couldn't leave. I pulled out her dagger and used it to clean the dirt from beneath my fingernails. I was still covered in the Saxons' blood, and wearing my armor, but I wasn't leaving here until she woke up. I kicked my feet up onto the table next to her bed, and readied myself for another sleepless night.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I wasn't really sure where I was or why I was there. Everything was black, yet strangely familiar. I felt a dull ache that was reminiscent of when I was stabbed by the leader of the tribe that killed my family. I couldn't remember why I felt like that though. I couldn't recall much of anything except memories of pain, and another that was just escaping my reach. I knew that I wanted it desperately, whatever it was. I coveted it in a way that made everything else seem much less important…

And then it was like he was there, behind my eyes. Every memory of Tristan exploded in a quick flash of remembrance that chased away the blackness in my mind. The last moment, of him kneeling before me as he tried to keep me awake made me remember why everything was so foggy. I'd been shot, that was the cause for the pain. It must have been the reason I was having trouble locating my own body.

I wondered what happened when I'd lost consciousness. Had they left me there on the ground? Did Tristan stay with me? The biggest question I wanted an answer to was whether or not I was still in danger.

Very slowly I started to become more and more aware of my surroundings. I could feel a bed beneath me, and I was now able to tell where my body parts were. The problem was that I couldn't move, or even open my eyes. My brain felt extremely dazed, and I wondered why the pain wasn't worse. There was just an odd throbbing, but it felt…far away. I figured someone must have given me something to relieve pain, recognizing the strange drunk feeling.

"…you really…that is a…idea?" a deep voice said very close to me.

His words seemed to be slipping through the cracks, and I only caught snippets of what he was saying. I recognized his voice, but couldn't match it with a name or face. He spoke again, but everything was muffled like I was listening to him from underwater. Part of me was yearning to open my eyes and identify him, but the other half was already falling back into that unidentifiable darkness.

Another voice shocked me away from the black void, and my heart began to beat insanely just at the sound of it. I couldn't make out the words Tristan was saying to his companion, but I would have known his voice anywhere. I fought against the fog keeping me in this sleeping state, but my eyes felt too heavy to open. The other man was talking now, but I willed Tristan to start again. Just hearing his voice made the aching lessen.

I continued to fight to open my eyes, even when the voices left. I didn't know if they departed or if they were just not talking any longer, but I wanted to be awake now. I needed to tell Tristan that I was sorry, and somehow convince him to take me to the Wall with him. I'd planned on starting my life, not dying.

The black chasm seemed to be calling me, and I couldn't help but obey. I fought one last fight against my eyelids, and could have sworn that I might have even been moving them for a second. One last bursting memory of my kiss with Tristan became visible just before I fell back into complete unawareness.

-()-()-()-()-

He followed the Saxons after retreating. Stealth wasn't really a requirement, as the Saxons were not the most intelligent bunch. They ran through the forest, clearly heading for the coastline. They made no attempts to hide their tracks, and spent most of their time staring in terror over their shoulders. He figured they were expecting the knights to come after them, but they wouldn't. They had more things to worry about, like the dying girl.

He knew that his shot wouldn't be immediately fatal, and that was what he'd intended. He wanted her to suffer, therefore prolonging the suffering of the Sarmatian. From the look on the knight's face when she fell, he'd succeeded. Arrows had poured into the trees after him, but he had evaded each one with skill that only an experienced infantryman could possess.

He heard the sounds of the ocean, and picked up his pace when the Saxons did. They broke through the trees, but he held back to watch. There was a ship anchored out in the ocean, and several row boats in the sand. There was a small group of Saxons already there, one of which was clearly the leader. His hair was a dark blonde and fell straight to his hips. His beard was just as long as his hair, and was plaited in a couple places. His face was just as expressionless as the scout's when he saw his bloodied men sprinting towards him. He listened to their report almost boredly. He glanced at a man to his right once they were done. This one was completely bald, but had a beard the same color as the leader's hair which was held together in a single plait. By the looks of it, he was either second-in-command, a relation to the leader, possibly both.

The leader nodded to him, and the Saxon withdrew his sword, easily plunging it into each of his countrymen's chests without remorse. They left the bodies there, and the leader called for the men to begin packing. The Woad knew it was either now or never. The choice felt clear to him.

He emerged from the bushes, and was immediately spotted by a smaller Saxon with black hair. He called out, and they all turned to see what he was looking at, eyes darkening when they spotted a native of this land. Countless arrows were trained on him, but he kept his eyes locked with the king's. He dumped his sword on the ground, daggers from various places, bow, and supply of arrows. He held his arms up to show that he meant no harm, and approached slowly.

"What do you want, native?" asked a giant man with so much dark hair on his head and chin that his face almost disappeared in the mass of it.

"I wish to speak to the man in charge," he said easily, looking at the man he already figured was the one he wished to speak to, and showing as much confidence as he dared.

The slightest flicker of a mocking smile appeared on the Saxon's face. He glanced at the one with the bald head, and then turned back to nod at him to speak.

"The men you just killed plundered the house of a woman in the forest," the Woad informed him. "She was a Briton, but not of my tribe."

"Is there meaning behind telling us this?" snapped the bald one. The leader's eyes flicked to him, and he immediately shut his mouth.

The Woad regarded the bald one carefully. "The reason I tell you this is because that woman betrayed my people, and caused multiple deaths. She took on a resilient stance with your men, even spitting on one of them. They killed her." Not actually true, but a good touch. It would make them feel like they'd actually done something worth while. "My own people never would have done so, no matter how many honorable men she spat on. That is why I wish to join you. I do not support the weak."

Murmurings broke out among them. The leader only had to lazily raise his hand to stop it. "What is your name?" he asked with a scratchy, deep voice.

"Fachtna," the Woad answered.

"What reason would I have for taking you on, Fachtna?" the leader asked. He seemed almost amused by this request.

"I was a scout for my leader's army," he answered proudly. "I know everything about this land, right down to every hidden trail. I could get you around faster and more efficiently than you could on your own. I have studied Hadrian's Wall," the murmurings broke out again, excitedly this time, "and I know ways to break down their resistance."

The leader stroked his beard thoughtfully, and then beckoned to the bald on. He bent down, and the leader said something lowly in his ear. The man responded, looking surprised. They spoke like that in low voices for awhile until the bald one stood straight again, and took a step back.

"I will take you on, Fachtna," the leader said finally. "But you will have to prove yourself before gaining my trust. More of my men will be here in a fortnight. If you can get us to the closest village before nightfall on the day they come, then you may join my ranks. If not, you die. Agreed?"

Fachtna grinned inwardly. He felt no connection or love for his people now that his final family member had passed on, and the the thought had occurred to him that no one had yet paid for the deaths of the other family members of his that had fallen to the hands of the Sarmatian knights and Artorius Castus. Ever since then, the want for revenge on the rest of the cavalry had consumed him. This could make his desire for their pain a reality. He would use the Saxons to his advantage, gain trust in their leader, and get them to the Wall. The knights couldn't possibly face an entire army and survive. They would pay for the deaths of the rest of his family.

"Agreed."

**That concludes chapter 26! For those of you who it wasn't clear to, no-name Woad man who is now no longer nameless (I'll miss that term though) is the guy with the Saxons who was passing information along and gets shot by Tristan in the tree at Badon Hill. Before you get all atwitter about it (haha, funny word), it never says he was a Roman. And, to me, he didn't look Roman. So I gave him identity and reason for being with the Saxons. YUP.**

**Fachtna means "malicious" or "hostile". I figured it was perfect. His name wasn't listed in the credits (at least I don't think so. If it was, let me know so I can edit it) so I gave him one.**

**Anywho, thank you guys so much for the reviews! I believe I received nine, which is a new record for this story! Woo! You guys are all great. (:**


	27. I'll Rise to Fall Again

**Hey guys! How is everyone? :) I'm doing better now that the AC in my house is fixed!**

**And hopefully you'll be doing better now that there's a new chapter in your life! :D**

_"Hey there. It's good to see you again. It never felt right calling this 'just friends'. I'm happy if you're happy with yourself. It's happening. There's nothing left to lose. I'm gonna break down these walls I built around myself. I wanna fall so in love with you and no one else. You could never mean half as much to me as you do now. Together we'll move on; just don't turn around. Let the walls break down."-All Time Low_

*+*Aderyn*+*

A very sharp twinge of pain in my back woke me up. I tried to open my eyes, but one of them was covered by something. The one that could open flitted around the room quickly, taking everything in. I was on my side on a bed that wasn't just a lump of blankets on the floor. I had never seen this room. It had rows of other beds lining both walls, and I could see the door on the other side of the room. Another twinge of pain made me cry out, and I started to flail around in an attempt to escape the ache when I noticed that there was someone behind me.

"Desiderius, hold her down!" shouted a husky feminine voice.

With talk of holding me down, I started to struggle harder, pushing at the hands that tried to keep me restrained. The pain was incredibly intense, but my fear was keeping me going. If I could survive two raids on my home, I wasn't going to let some crabby old woman take me down.

A man appeared, and grabbed both of my arms to hold them down, sitting on my legs at the same time. I started to shriek like mad. I had no clue where I was, but I was hoping with all of my heart that I was close enough to civilization for someone to hear my screams.

The doors banged open, and two men ran in with their weapons out, coming right up next to the bed.

"I cannot work like this!" the female voice snapped again. "Calm her down, or she is going to bleed to death!"

"HEY! STOP IT!" a manly voice roared, cutting off my screams. I ceased my struggles, and stared around at all of the inhabitants of the room with wide eyes. The woman had long, straight black hair that she left down, falling all the way to her hips. There were streaks of gray near her temples, and her face was wrinkled. The disapproving frown on her face struck me as permanent. The man sitting on me was young, probably around my age if not a few years younger. He had shoulder-length dark brown hair and friendly dark eyes that were looking down on me with concern. The two men that charged into the room were two of the knights, the blonde one who'd been in the stable and the young one who'd tried to kill me.

"She probably would not be screaming like that if you weren't sitting on her," the blonde one pointed out. The man on top of me got up immediately, looking appropriately abashed. The knight looked down at me, and said, "I am Gawain and this is Galahad, we are two of the Sarmatian knights. These people," he gestured to the woman and the younger man who'd been holding me down, "are healers here at the fort. They will not hurt you. You have to let her see your back."

I stared at him suspiciously, but rolled slowly back to my side so that my back was exposed. Tristan trusted these men, so I decided I could too. The woman sniffed with annoyance, but returned to tending to my back. There was another uncomfortable tugging feeling, and I gasped, clutching the blankets in my hands to stop from actually crying out again.

"I'll go and tell Tristan that she is awake. You wait here," Gawain told his fellow. He sheathed his sword, and left without saying anything else. Galahad sat himself down on the bed to my right, and watched me. I looked at the bed near my elbow, trying to be oblivious of his presence.

"We had to force Tristan to eat and bathe," he said suddenly. "He has been gone for only about a half an hour."

I nodded, feeling relieved that he would be back soon. I felt terribly uncomfortable with all of these people. I wasn't used to it. The male healer walked away for a moment, but came back a moment later with a knife and a roll of bandages. He knelt before me, and made eye contact.

"I am Desiderius," he said. "My mother," he nodded to the woman behind me, "is Severina. We've been tending to you since you arrived two days ago."

I nodded, but was unable to believe I'd been knocked out for two days. It felt like it had only been hours. I had a vague memory of hearing Tristan speaking, but the more I thought about it, the less I could remember.

"The wound in your back was not too deep, and hit nothing major. You will make a full recovery," Desiderius continued. "It will be painful though, and leave a scar. Your wrists will have scars too, but we managed to remove all the splinters from your hands. You were missing a few nails."

I winced at the memory of my mangled hands, bringing them up to my face to observe. They were heavily bandaged so that I couldn't see an inch of skin. There were blood stains in different places where it had soaked through. The slash on my arm where the Saxon cut me was not bandaged or stitched as it wasn't too deep.

I realized I was only seeing out of one eye, and remembered that the other one was covered. "Am I blind?" I asked Desiderius. My voice came out as a strangled croaking, thick from lack of use.

He smiled slightly, shaking his head. He took a goblet of water from next to my bed, and held it to my lips so I could drink. I coughed after only a few sips, and he set it back down.

"The cut on your face was a bit gruesome," he explained. I frowned when I recalled the memory of the Saxon slashing my face, marking me. "It will scar."

I nodded, knowing that already. He made sure of that, just as the first barbarians who attacked me made sure I would never forget them either. I subconsciously touched the scar on my chest as I thought of it.

"Can I see your hands?" he asked, holding his out for mine. "I need to change the bandages."

I stared at him with wide eyes as I gently placed my hands in his. He grinned at me openly and started to unravel the bandages. My eyes flicked to Galahad who had remained silent. He was staring at me shamelessly. I stared back at him, and yelled a curse in the Woad language when pain shot through my back.

"What is your secret?" Galahad asked suddenly.

I blinked. "What?"

"Everyone around here is afraid of Tristan," he stated blatantly. "Even I would be if I had not spent most of my life around him. Most people avoid him, and he avoids them."

"I have no reason to be afraid of him," I replied honestly. "I saved his life."

"And you think that means he owes you," he said. It wasn't a question.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Tristan owes me nothing, and I know that. Do not accuse me of anything, _Galahad_, when you don't even know me. I am not some docile little girl who will sit here silently while you try and make up nonexistent ulterior motives for my actions."

He laughed, catching me off guard. "Oh, you're perfect for Tristan!" he chuckled. I flushed, and looked away.

When he finally stopped laughing, he said, "I was not accusing you of anything. I just wanted to ensure that Arthur was making the right decision."

"What decision?" I asked confusedly.

"He has decided to allow you to choose whether or not you stay here at the Wall," he explained. "You can go back to your home, if you want. But if you would like to stay, you can. I am going to take a guess, and say that you're staying, considering that you were already packed when we found you."

I just cocked my head to the side, considering that. I hadn't really had time to think much yet. My injuries put a bit of a damper on things. I'd decided to go to the Wall, but hadn't gotten much further than that at the time. I'd thought I would have a whole day's worth of riding to consider it. Now I was at the Wall, and I had no idea what to say to Tristan or where to go from here.

"Your horse is in the stables, by the way," Gawain added. "He does not like anyone very much though. He only lets Tristan near him."

"Thank you," I said quietly. "I…I am sorry I called you a bastard that day."

He smiled. "I deserved it. I did try to kill you, after all."

"Done," Severina declared just as Desiderius let go of my newly bandaged hands. I looked around in confusion, having forgot that anyone was even fixing my injuries. Galahad winked.

"I'm good at distractions," he said slyly.

At that moment there was a bang like thunder, and I leapt in fright. The noise was the door to the infirmary being thrown open, and Tristan nearly running in with Gawain at his heels. He came right up next to me, and looked me over. I suddenly felt shy, and blushed to the very roots of my hair as I averted my gaze to the floor.

"We'll just…leave," Gawain said, dragging Galahad to the door with him. Desiderius strode away too.

"No funny business in here," Severina said sternly. "She's injured, boy. Too much physical exertion will rip the stitches."

I blushed deeper and covered my face with my bandaged hands as she left the room, wishing I would just pass out again. Tristan grabbed a chair, and sat down in it. I peaked at him through my fingers, and he was watching me.

"How do you feel?" he asked lowly. I slowly lowered my hands so I could regard him fully.

"Like I was shot by a Saxon," I replied, but he shook his head.

"You were shot by a Woad, not a Saxon," he explained. My mouth dropped in surprise. "The man who attacked me the day Drenna died had an agenda. Apparently, I killed his brother so he decided to kill you to get back at me."

I was shocked. I had never imagined that a Woad had caused this injury. I hadn't even seen a Woad there that day. Then again, I'd been really focused on fighting the Saxons…

"I killed six men," I told him quietly.

"You never killed before, did you?" he asked. I shook my head, looking back at my hands. "They would have killed you if you had not gotten to them first, and they wouldn't have thought twice about it. Do you remember what I said when you told me about your family?"

"'Men like that are only worthy of pain, pity, and a hangman's noose'," I recalled immediately.

"And you gave them a lot of the first one," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

I tried to smile, but failed. I flexed my fingers, but yelped in pain when I did so. Tristan leapt to the edge of his seat, and grabbed my hands so I wouldn't bend my fingers.

"Some were dislocated," he explained. "Moving them will hurt for awhile, so don't bend them too much."

I nodded, but I was more focused on his hands on mine and how close he was than what he was saying. We stayed that close for a minute until my eyes flicked over the plaits in his hair. I picked one up, careful not to bend my fingers much, and twisted it a bit, a silent acknowledgement that he kept the habit I'd started for him.

"I did not want you to lose anyone else," he said quietly, referring to Drenna.

I considered that for a few moments, continuing to fiddle with his hair as I did. "I think…I think I needed the push. If it weren't for how things turned out, I may have never left the forest. I had grown too comfortable with just surviving. When Drenna was gone…I could finally face everything head on. I went to their rooms, and I visited their graves." I smiled at Tristan genuinely, letting go of his hair so I could see his eyes. "I think I have moved on now. Everything that was keeping me there has been dealt with. I don't have to stay in that house anymore."

"Even if you did, I would have come for you," he murmured. "If we had not heard of the Saxons, it wouldn't have been long before I went riding out there to bring you back against your will."

I giggled embarrassedly. "Who says it would have been against my will?"

His smile was so small that I barely registered it, and was gone seconds after it appeared. "I will have Arthur prepare a room for you in the keep. I won't have you staying far from me."

"Are you the jealous type now?" I asked jokingly. He suddenly looked stern.

"It will be dangerous for you here," he said gravely. "The people have already started talking, saying there is a Woad being kept in the healing rooms. That is why I had the door guarded while I was gone. They will not take kindly to you."

"I am not a Woad," I pointed out.

"You may not see it, but their influence is in nearly everything you do. The people will not see a Briton raised by a Woad, they will only see a Woad, and they will not stop to discuss it with you before they lash out."

"Perhaps…I should just leave then," I said slowly, testing the theory out. The second I said it out loud, I didn't want to do it. The thought of being far from Tristan made me uncomfortable.

"No," he growled. "The Romans are withdrawing from Briton." My eyebrows nearly touched my hairline at that. "The nomads will move in now. There can only be more incidents like this, and I cannot come save you every time."

I scowled at him. "I do not need to be saved, Tristan. I was fine for years without you, and I turned out alright."

"I don't think nearly bleeding to death is alright," he snapped.

I didn't retort, instead choosing to fold my arms over my chest and continue to scowl. He took a deep breath, and leaned away from me. I had a feeling that I was testing his boundaries. I doubted he'd ever had any arguments like this before.

"I know that you can defend yourself," he finally relented reluctantly. "But you cannot fight the whole of an invasion on your own. Understand that I am trying my best to keep you safe. I failed once, and…"

He trailed off, but I felt myself giving in. I wasn't sure why I was being so stubborn. He was just trying to help me, but I was so used to only depending on Drenna for things. This was as new for me as it was for him. All I could hear in my head was my mother telling me to never let a man control me, but that wasn't what Tristan was doing. He was attempting to protect me, and I was throwing it back in his face. I didn't even want to leave, but I was fighting to go back. What was I doing? Was my pride really so important to me that I would follow it to my demise?

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I am not used to any of this."

He shook his head. "Neither am I."

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable…but it certainly wasn't comfortable either. He was completely still, and I would have thought he was asleep if I couldn't feel his eyes on me. I watched a bird on a tree branch outside one of the windows as it flitted around to get twigs and other materials for a nest. I remembered Tristan's bird, and how little she liked me. She wasn't going to be so happy about this.

The silence was starting to get to me. I wanted him to speak to me, for things to go back to how they'd been before he left. We hadn't spoken much back then either, but when we didn't, it still felt normal.

"I missed you," I blurted. I could feel my face beginning to flame crimson right when the words were out of my mouth, and purposefully kept my eyes down. I heard him shift after a moment, and then he lifted my face by my chin. He was so close that I could almost count his eyelashes. Suddenly talking seemed like a ridiculous idea. Getting back to what we'd been doing when the knights interrupted that day seemed like a much better idea…

I couldn't take it anymore, and closed the distance between us. Our lips had contact for about three seconds before the doors to the infirmary opened. Tristan pulled away, and turned to look at the intruders. I stared at them too.

Two men stood there. One was Arthur, the commander with the wise green eyes. The other was a man I didn't yet know the name of, but certainly recognized the face of. He was the one who shot Drenna. My curious expression turned to loathing, and I crossed my arms again.

"I apologize," Arthur said, a slight hint of amusement in his voice. "I had no idea we would be interrupting."

Tristan grunted agitatedly. The two men strode up next to Tristan, and Arthur bowed his head to me respectfully.

"I am Arthur Castus," he introduced. "This is Lancelot, my second-in-command."

I sneered at Lancelot, but his expression remained stony as he bowed his head to me as well, pretending that my look wasn't hostile. I glanced at Tristan, waiting for them to get to the point of this visit. I doubted it was to check in on my health.

"Aderyn, I have arranged for a room to be prepared for you in the Keep," Arthur continued. "It is adjacent to Tristan's, and Gawain is nearby. It will be ready by the time you are well."

"Thank you," I mumbled. I honestly wasn't too sure about talking with these people. I knew what to expect from Tristan and Woads, but the only other interaction I had with humans was when I was stealing things from their camps. Even then I just took what I wanted and left.

"You are welcome," Arthur responded kindly. "I would like to apologize to you for my rash behavior the last time we met. I had no idea that you were helping Tristan, and I let unproven words fuel my actions."

"_You_ have nothing to apologize for," I said, glaring pointedly at Lancelot. His jaw tensed, and his eyes met with Arthur's briefly.

"Yes, well…," Arthur said awkwardly, "I do hope your recovery is quick. The men are anxious to get to know the woman who managed to capture our scout's attention so efficiently."

I wondered who their scout was for a moment until I noticed that he was smiling at Tristan. I smirked at him as well, noting the lines of irritation creasing his forehead. I leaned my head back against the headboard, suddenly feeling drowsy.

"By your leave, milady," Arthur said, nodding to Tristan and I. Lancelot followed him with only a single nod of acknowledgment directed at us both. Tristan turned back to me once the doors shut behind them.

"I am tired," I told him, eyes half shut. I figured there must have been herbs in the drink Desiderius gave me that would make me sleep off the pain.

"Go to sleep," he commanded, taking hold of my shoulders to nudge me so that I was lying down.

"I don't want to," I protested. In my mind, I was pushing against his arms, but in reality I was only holding his wrists. He slid his arms out of my grip gently until only one of my hands was enclosed in both of his. He kissed my bandaged palm without taking his eyes away from mine.

"I will be here when you wake up," he said reassuringly.

"Fine," I grumbled, letting my eyes close. I had something to say, and I knew I couldn't sleep until I said it, even though I couldn't concentrate very well anymore. "Tristan?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

**I'm not so sure if I like this chapter or not. There are sections I'm okay with, and then there are others I never want to see again.**

**I'd like to, yet again, thank everyone for their reviews, alerts, and favorites! Nothing means more to me than knowing that people are reading this, and enjoying it. (:**


	28. God Help Me

**Hey everyone. So the "rapture" didn't happen, obviously. I don't know why anyone would believe it was going to anyway.**

**I'm having a bit of trouble right now with personal problems. I need time to sort out some stuff. This might be the last update for awhile, for either of my stories.**

_"We burn each other though we're dying for more. We're stuck on this dysfunction. We love it to our death. We celebrate destruction by lighting up this bed. We don't talk much when there's so much to say. We don't listen, but try anyway. My stomach feels sick, bitter and open. Reveries of helplessness have left me all but hoping. We strip each other's beauty, and we push it to the end. We face each other smiling, and leave it all unsaid. You can take your love away, but don't you ever leave me alone. Burn the ghost we've carried home. Come on, touch me. Show me you're imperfect too. These broken lights, they shine on us tonight. We kiss 'til we bleed. We feel so much it's killing us. We fight 'til we're free."-Automatic Loveletter_

*+*Aderyn*+*

"You are going to kill yourself one of these days, girl!" Severina snapped.

I rolled my eyes, having become accustomed to her demeanor. "I'm just taking a walk."

She sniffed disapprovingly, just like she did every time I tried to do anything other than lie in bed. It had been so for the past two weeks since I arrived at the fort. I had not left the infirmary except for short excursions into the hallway outside where Tristan would help me stroll up and down to gain my strength back. Severina had screamed at us both for nearly an hour the first time she discovered that he'd taken me out, but after that she quieted her disapproval. I think Desiderius may have spoken to her. He was my only ally here, but he only spoke to me when Tristan was gone. The knight terrified him.

I tried to leave the infirmary every day, but Tristan and Severina vehemently refused. They said I would still be weak from the fever I'd contracted the first week, but I felt fine. Desiderius agreed with me, but was afraid to voice it due to Tristan.

Things with Tristan and I had gone right back to the way they'd been in the forest, really. We both annoyed the other at times, but we still had that understanding of each other that no one else had. He stayed with me every second other than eating, bathing, patrols, and sleeping. The last he waited to do until I did. He was always there when I woke though, and he was constantly ensuring that I was comfortable.

Questions had arose due to the state of my crooked arm, but I knew I wasn't ready to tell them all every detail of my past yet. Tristan told the healers that I'd been trampled by a horse as a child, and I was grateful for his lie. Severina had made several snipes against my parents for not getting me properly treated, but I'd snapped at her that they were dead when it happened and she'd been much less rude to me since then. Her personality took some getting used to to be tolerable.

The bandages on my hands had come off yesterday, and I'd been disappointed at first. There were thick ropes of scars on both of my wrists where the skin was disfigured from the wires cutting into them. The only positive of that was that my bad wrist looked a bit straighter because of it. Severina said the scars would fade more with time until they were only noticeable if you looked for them. I was not the sort to be vain, but I hoped she was right.

I hadn't seen the state of my face yet, but Severina said she would check the stitches later to see if they could come out. I was looking forward to having both of my eyes open again. Having a large blind spot was driving me mad.

I finally finished lacing my boots, and sat back up. My back throbbed a bit with the motion, but I didn't let it show on my face. Severina glared at me as I stood, fully dressed.

"You need dresses," she said icily. "No woman should be walking around in breeches."

"I have always worn breeches," I said confusedly as I plaited my hair.

"Unacceptable!" she continued. "No husband will take a bride that wears breeches!" She looked contemplative for a moment, and then snorted. "Of course, you will be marrying that knight. He has such low standards that I doubt it will matter."

I sighed, becoming irritated. She had a blatant dislike for Tristan, and often said very offhanded things like that. "I will be back later," I told her.

"Oh no you don't!" she said hastily. "Desiderius! Come here and go with the girl on her foolish walk!"

"He does not have to," I protested.

"It's alright," Desiderius said, appearing with a load of freshly picked herbs in his hands. He dropped them on a nearby table, and shed his gloves. "I just finished."

"Well, hurry up then," I said, ushering him to follow me. I needed to get out and back before Tristan showed up. I had no intention of just walking to and fro in the hallway this time.

Desiderius followed me to the outside corridor, but slowed when I got near the doors that lead outside. "Where are you going?" he asked cautiously.

"I told you," I sighed, walking back to grab his wrist and drag him towards the door. "I am taking a walk."

He froze, and used my grip on him to pull me back. "Not outside of this hallway, you aren't."

"Desiderius," I groaned. "Come on! I have lived in the open all my life! I am not used to being cooped up all the time. It's been too long since I breathed fresh air. Please, please, please just let me go on one small little walk?"

He looked like he was caving for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. "Tristan will kill me if your fever comes back."

"My fever won't come back!" I insisted. "I feel perfect, and if Tristan tries to hurt you, just come get me. I like you, and I don't want him to kill you."

He grinned, and I knew I'd won before he even said, "Fine, but let's make this quick."

He lead me outside, and I nearly giggled in my excitement from breathing fresh air again. I felt so much better when I was outdoors. People milled around on the streets, going about their business. Some stopped to look at us curiously, and I self-consciously sidled behind Desiderius a bit. He laughed, and pulled me back next to him as we started down the street.

"You don't have to hide," he promised me. "They are just curious because they do not know you, and you are heavily bandaged."

I glared at him. "Thanks for the confidence."

He laughed again, and I nudged him with my elbow playfully. He was a lot like Ursus, which was why I immediately took a liking to him. At first talking to him was strange because I was so used to antisocial Tristan and taciturn Severina. But eventually I became more comfortable, and we started a genuine friendship. I was glad I had him too because apparently some of the things I'd said or done weren't very acceptable in public. He let me know without embarrassing me, and that was why I was glad he was by my side on my first public outing.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I thought we could go to the market," he responded. "It is crowded so you won't stick out too much, and if anyone tries to confront you, it will be stopped."

That was a personality flaw of his. He was overly blunt without realizing it, and now I was afraid that someone might try and attack me when I wasn't armed. In fact, I hadn't even seen my weapons since I put them on Egryn's saddle the day the Saxons attacked me. I would have to ask Tristan where all of my belongings were when I saw him later.

Desiderius was not lying when he said that the market was crowded. It was a whole street lined with packed carts on either side where vendors advertised what they had for sale. People milled about, stopping to look at certain things or nearly running others over in their attempts to get to something being sold. The smells and sights were like an assault to my senses, but I was extremely curious as I allowed Desiderius to lead me through the first line of stalls. He pointed things out, and explained them if I didn't understand. I felt like a small child, so awestruck at everything. Desiderius kept smiling at me over his shoulder.

I stopped to look at some strange sort of lizard from a foreign country that a man was selling and Desiderius showed up a minute later seemingly panicked because he thought he lost me.

"Dammit, don't scare me like that," he hissed. "Your knight would castrate me if I came back to that infirmary empty-handed."

"You do not have to be so afraid of Tristan," I told him, continuing to observe the lizard as it flitted around its cage. "I don't understand why everyone is so scared of him."

"Well, you wouldn't," he scoffed. "You do not know the stories about him."

He caught my interest now, and I looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Stories?" I asked.

For once he realized that he'd said too much, and quickly grabbed my wrist to start pulling me away. I yelped in pain. My wrists were still raw from the cuts.

"Sorry," he said earnestly, taking my hand instead.

He kept holding it as we walked through the crowd, and girls kept sneering at me as I walked past. I didn't understand what I was doing that was so wrong to them.

"Are all the women here unfriendly?" I asked him.

He smiled, but shook his head. "No. Don't let my mother's example make you think that."

"No, I meant all the girls here are glaring at me," I informed him, nodding to a line of girls that looked to be a few years younger than me who had been glowering in my direction.

When he looked, they all dropped their angry looks and started to giggle, waving foolishly. My confusion increased.

He rolled his eyes, not waving back at them. "They are just the, er, loose sort. They're probably just jealous because they think you have taken another man off the market."

"I really do not get what you're saying," I admitted shamelessly.

"This," he said, holding up our intertwined hands. "They think I am courting you now."

"Why would they think that just because you are holding my hand?" I questioned curiously.

"You really did lead a sheltered life," he chuckled. "Normally a man and woman only hold hands as a sign of affection."

I blanched and self-consciously pulled my hand away. Desiderius laughed at me, and pulled me out of the range of a woman who tried to put a pink scarf around my neck.

"Desiderius?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean by 'loose'? Do they need smaller clothes?"

He looked a bit nervous. "I would really rather not be the one to explain that to you. Vanora will probably swoop you up the second she sees you, so ask her."

"Vanora?" I asked. The name was a bit familiar.

"She is Bors's woman," he said.

"Oh!" I said, recognition dawning on me. "The one with ten bastards!"

He laughed uproariously. "Is she really so infamous even amongst the Woads?"

I laughed with him. "No, but Tristan told me about her once."

"Ah, well, she would be better to explain that to you than me," he said. I nodded, already making a mental note to ask her once I met her.

We walked around for awhile longer, and people continued to give me curious looks as I strolled through with Desiderius. He was always so cheerful that it rubbed off on me, and I could feel myself smiling almost nonstop the whole time.

"We should start to head back," he decided suddenly. "The patrol should be over by now, so Tristan will be coming to see you soon."

I agreed, and we walked to the main street in a comfortable silence. I heard horses behind me, but thought nothing of it. The infirmary was in my sights when two strong arms locked around my waist from behind, and a voice whispered in my ear, "You are in trouble."

I froze, trying to disguise my horror quickly before turning around. "Tristan! What…you…I was…this is not…hello there!"

He glared at me, clearly not amused. Behind him Isolde was being held by Gawain as he and the tallest knight watched our exchange from their mounts.

"Why are you outside?" he asked angrily.

"I was taking a walk," I said innocently.

His eyes narrowed even further, and I glanced at Desiderius, which was not a good decision. Tristan looked at him too, and his nostrils flared with rage.

"Why did you let her out?" he snapped. "She is still not well enough."

"I am too!" I protested furiously. They ignored me.

"She said she felt fine," Desiderius said weakly. He recoiled when Tristan took a step towards him.

"Hey, stop!" I commanded, putting both hands on Tristan's chest and stepping between him and Desiderius. He looked down, and I gave him a pleading look, begging him to calm down with my eyes. He sighed, and his shoulders relaxed. Without warning, he swept me up so that he was holding me bridal style, and shot one last fleeting glare to Desiderius before starting to walk away with me.

"Tristan, what are you doing?" I asked as he brought me back towards the other knights. "Put me down! I can walk!"

"You have done enough walking," he responded.

"Take her to the stables," he told Gawain, nodding at Isolde. "I will unsaddle her later." The man nodded, and rode off with the other knight.

"This is unnecessary," I mumbled as he started to walk me down the street in the opposite direction of the infirmary. "I really am fine."

He didn't reply, but I saw the frosty look he was giving several Roman guards who watched us with interest. When he'd passed them, I glanced back over his shoulder, and one of them was twirling a dagger between his fingers. He winked at me, grinning, and I quickly looked away.

I took the time to look around at everything we passed. It was mostly houses and other such structures, but the Wall could be seen from almost every place in the fort. It was enormous, and I marveled at how men could have possibly made anything like that.

Tristan approached a courtyard with a high gate that was left open. He strolled through, and entered the building through a set of large double doors. The halls were more intricately designed than the infirmary's, and lit by large torches. Doors lined the hall, and we passed all of them until we we came to a set of stairs. Tristan climbed them easily, as if he weren't carrying someone else, and walked through another hallway identical to the one below.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

He finally stopped in front of one of the doors, and kicked it open. He walked in, and set me down at the headboard of a bed on the right side of the room. I looked around at the room we'd entered. It was a meager bedroom. It looked barely lived in though. The only things that indicated that anyone stayed here was the bag of clothes and the armor stand in the corner, which had Tristan's armor on it.

"Is this your room?" I asked. He nodded, throwing his sword and scabbard onto a dresser across from the bed, and walking over to the wash basin next to his armor stand to splash some water on his face. He turned back to me with his beard dripping onto his tunic, and watched me observe my surroundings. I figured he wasn't done with his reprimanding yet, so I waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"Am I still in trouble?" I asked, pretending to be interested in a hole in one of his blankets. The weight shifted on the bed, and suddenly I was staring at Tristan's arm instead of the hole. He'd laid down with his head on the pillow next to me, and was staring up at the ceiling past my head.

"Yes," he replied. I waited for more, but nothing came.

"Does that mean you are angry with me?" I questioned. His eyes darted to me, and then back to the ceiling.

"You are going to get a fever again," he said darkly.

"No, I am not!" I said exasperatedly, slumping back against the wall behind me. "I am perfectly fine!"

"You're in pain," he countered before I could say anything else.

"Tristan, _please_ stop. I am just sick of sitting around doing nothing," I responded pleadingly. "I seem to recall a certain broody knight trying to ride away on horseback when he was much worse off than I was."

The look he fixed me with was not very pleasant, but I didn't look away. His hair was coming undone from the plaits, and sticking out in odd directions. In the shadows created by the drawn curtains, his cheekbones seemed to jut out even further. With one finger, I traced them, feeling his eyes on my face the entire time. When I raked my fingers through his hair to get it out of his eyes, he reached out and put his hand on the back of my head to pull me down to him.

I returned his kiss hesitantly this time. It was our first real one since the day he'd left, and now that I was expecting it, I was nervous. He sensed that, and was much slower and gentler this time, letting me take the lead. I moved without realizing it, edging my body on top of his. His patience with the slowness of the kiss was ebbing, and he started to slowly take control. I allowed him, keeping up with his movements as best as I could. His fingers tangled in the hair under my braid with one hand, and the other was on the side of my thigh, making my whole body strangely warm. When his tongue slipped past my teeth, I froze in surprise.

That one moment of hesitation was enough for Tristan to come to his senses, and he pulled away. I realized I was on top of him, and tried to roll away. He held me there though, with his eyes more so than his hands. It felt like they were penetrating my skull, and reading my mind. I blushed furiously, and looked away, feeling intensely vulnerable.

He suddenly sat up, and scooted back against the wall, pulling me with him. I sat back, straddling his thighs. He continued to look at me, so I turned my attention to his haphazard braids. I undid them all, redoing them neatly so that his hair didn't obscure his vision so much. He caught my hand when I was taking it back, and held it out flat in front of him. He brought the inside of my wrist to his lips, kissing the sensitive scars there. The contact made me shiver.

"Promise me something," he murmured against my pulse point.

"Okay," I said quietly. "What?"

"That you will stay," he finished, twisting my hand so that he could kiss my palm.

"I promise," I whispered, unable to get my voice any louder. I had no intention of leaving, but any resolve I might have had was broken. If he told me to go back to the infirmary and stay in bed for the next five years, I probably would have agreed as long as he was looking at me like he was now.

He nodded once, kissing each of my fingertips before swiveling around so that his legs hung off the bed, and he was holding me closer. My breath hitched and my heart skipped a beat, but he just set me on my feet and stood up himself. He walked towards the door, leaving me confused in his wake.

"Where are you going?" I asked as he opened his door.

"Back to the infirmary," he said, holding it open for me. My face fell, and I stomped past him angrily. At least he wasn't carrying me this time.

I kept my sour expression on my face the whole walk back, ignoring anyone who looked at Tristan and I as we passed. He kept so close to me that our shoulders kept bumping, and I felt an urge to yell at him that I didn't need to be watched over like a child.

I barged through the door of the infirmary before him, making my way over to the bed. Desiderius caught my eye from the corner and opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes widened to the size of saucers when he saw Tristan, and he quickly shuffled to the back room that was mostly used for child births. I sat down in the bed, and folded my arms childishly.

Severina appeared from the room where Desiderius just retreated, looking smugly satisfied. "I told you, girl," she said arrogantly. "You are not ready to-"

"I am taking her to her residence permanently now," Tristan interrupted. My mouth dropped open at the same time Severina's did. I leapt back up, and only just resisted the urge to throw my arms around him joyously.

"Really?" I squeaked happily. His blank glance told me he wasn't just joking with me.

"Well," Severina said stiffly, "I know I cannot change your mind. But you just better be back here next week so I can take those stitches out of your back! If they get infected, you might as well start digging your own grave!"

"I will," I said earnestly, beaming happily that I was finally going to be able to leave.

I was almost out the door when Severina called me back.

"Yes?" I asked, unsuccessfully trying to hide my reluctance to turn back around.

"Let me take the stitches out of your cheek while you're here," she said, nodding to the bed next to her. I went and sat down on it, bouncing impatiently while she prepared her knife.

She stripped off the bandage, and Tristan tensed visibly, which I did not take as a good sign. Severina seemed unbothered as she cut the stitches. The closer she got to my eye, the more it hurt. I tried to refrain, but ended up grabbing a fistful of Tristan's tunic and squeezing it so hard that my knuckles turned the color of milk. He disentangled my fingers from the fabric, and clasped the hand in one of his instead.

"Done," Severina finally said. She stepped back, and observed her work. "I am afraid there's nothing I can do for the scar. It will fade with time, but I doubt it will ever fully disappear."

I stood up, and looked at Tristan. His eyes followed the trail of the scar from the outside corner of my eye to the corner of my mouth. I was starting to worry about how it would look when he pulled me forward by our still intertwined hands, and kissed me.

"None of that in here!" Severina shouted, slapping Tristan's shoulder. He pulled away, and glared at her before pulling me behind him out of the infirmary.

**Pretty much just a filler. Sorry.**

**I really appreciate the reviews and alerts. I really need your guys' love now more than ever. Leave me a review and make my day better, please?**


	29. I've Come Undone

**Hey everyone. Sorry, but this A/N is about to be quite doom and gloom.**

**"Slowly Searching" is back on hiatus for awhile. The details are in the update on my profile. I don't feel like typing them again. If you care enough, you can read all about it there. Second, I've been through a bit of an...emotional setback recently. Because of that, I'm having trouble getting in character for happy or upbeat chapters. I just feel like I'm not really sure about much anymore...**

_"I'm not a perfect person. There's many things I wish I didn't do, but I continue learning. I never meant to do those things to you. I'm sorry that I hurt you. It's something I must live with everyday. And all the pain I put you through, I wish that I could take it all away and be the one who catches all your tears. That's why I need you to hear: I found a reason for me, to change who I used to be. A reason to start over new, and the reason is you. The reason is you."-Hoobastank_

*+*Aderyn*+*

Tristan let go of my hand once we were outside, but stuck close to me as we went back the way we'd come. He turned suddenly without warning, heading the opposite way from the keep, and I had to jog to catch up with him when I realized what he was doing.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the tavern," he answered.

"Why?" I asked.

"You have to meet someone," he replied cryptically.

My questions were getting me nowhere, so I followed him silently as he took the twists and turns of the streets expertly. Finally he walked to a building near the gates of the wall, and Tristan lead me inside. The place was set up with tables and chairs in all corners of the room, and a bar at the back. There were Roman soldiers at some of the tables, eating their lunch. Women served them, and I saw the hungry lust in their eyes as the barmaids came near them with pitchers of drink.

Tristan put his hand on my back to lead me forward, glowering at anyone who looked our way. We went right back to the bar where a very pregnant, harried-looking redhead woman was shouting at several small children who were playing around the bar.

"Gilly!" she said shrilly. "I am trying to work! Don't make me get your father!"

She glanced up and saw us approaching, and her face lit up with a friendly smile. "Tristan! How are you? The usual, I presume?"

"Not now," he said, pushing me forward pointedly. She finally looked at me, and her eyes trailed from my head to my toes critically. She lingered on the side of my face where my new scar was, and I looked down shamefully.

"Aderyn, correct?" she asked. I looked back up, and nodded. She hesitated for a moment longer, but finally smiled again. "It is nice to meet you. I'm Vanora."

I hid my surprise by smiling quickly. She looked nowhere near old enough to have eleven children. I wouldn't have thought she was much older than me if asked.

"She needs a bath, linens, and some dresses," Tristan told her.

"I don't like dresses," I grumbled. He ignored me.

"Tristan," Vanora sighed exasperatedly. "I'm working, and I have eleven children to feed. Do you think I can just leave whenever I want?"

He just continued to stare at her, and finally she huffed, throwing her red hair over her shoulder. "Naveen!" she called.

"What?" a voice answered harshly from a room in the back.

"Come here, girl, there are some things I need you to do!"

There were quick footsteps, and then a girl appeared. She was about my same height, and had skin that had just the right amount of pigment to it so that she wasn't as tan as a farmworker but wasn't pale either. The dress she wore accentuated her curves, but didn't reveal any unnecessary skin. She had medium brown, curly hair that framed her perfectly oval-shaped face. Her almond eyes were a rich brown, and framed by some of the longest eyelashes I'd ever seen. Her pale pink lips were turned down into a frown, but it didn't take away from the overall beauty of her face. This was the type of girl who made every other woman in a room feel ugly the second she walked in. I felt cowed instantly.

"I cook, I clean, and I serve the bastards who come here to drink," she said as she rounded the corner. "What else could you possibly want?"

Vanora rolled her eyes. "You remember Tristan, I'm sure." The girl glanced at him, and a dusting of pink covered her cheeks. I glanced at Tristan, who clearly did not to care that he was making her nervous.

"This is Aderyn," Vanora continued, gesturing at me. "I need you to show her where the bathhouse in the Keep is, get her some linens for her bed, and find some dresses for her." The girl looked me over like Vanora had, and opened her mouth to speak.

"Yes, I will make sure you get paid extra," Vanora said, cutting her off.

Naveen smiled. "You know me so well, Nora," she laughed. It sounded like bells, and the little giggles of fairies from stories Drenna would tell me. I figured she must not have any trouble attracting male attention.

"Come with me, please," she said, walking around the bar, and back out of the door. Tristan nudged me forward, and I followed her with him striding behind me. A man reached out to grab at Naveen as she walked, but she deftly dodged the soldier's attempts to take a hold of her. She didn't even glance at him as she kept going, and I had to admit that I was impressed.

"So," she said, dropping back so that we were next to each other. "You're the woman they brought in awhile ago, eh?"

"Yes," I said, continuously making sure Tristan was near. The openness with which she spoke to me made me uncomfortable.

"Can I ask you something?" she questioned. I nodded. "Are you really a Woad?"

I shook my head. "The woman who raised me was a Woad, but I am not."

She let out a relieved breath. "Good. Everyone has been in a twist about it, but they're all afraid to defy the knights." She glanced behind her, and whispered. "Especially that one."

My forehead creased with confusion, but I didn't ask. It seemed like everyone was terrified of Tristan, but I couldn't understand why. He'd never really done anything to make me fear him…except try to kill me. Maybe I was just harder to scare than others, or it may have been that I was more insistent on denying that I was afraid. Either way, I wanted to find out what it was about him that had everyone acting like he was some sort of devil in human form.

We entered the keep, but stayed on the first floor. She went to the room at the very end of the hall, and threw the door open.

"These are the baths," she announced, peaking in. "It's empty, so you can go ahead on in. I am going to run home and grab some of my sister's old dresses. They might be a bit big on you, but I can take them in once you have tried them on."

"Thank you," I said. She smiled, and cast Tristan a nervous look before scurrying away. I stared at Tristan, and he nodded towards the door, silently telling me to go in.

"Will you take me to see Egryn later?" I asked. He nodded, and I beamed at him before turning around to enter the bathing room. I shut the door with a click behind me, and stared at my surroundings. I was glad it was empty, as I really wasn't used to bathing being a public affair. I suppose I'd have to get used to it now that I was inhabiting an urban area.

It was so strange to think that I no longer lived alone. There were people everywhere. It was so new and different, and I wasn't sure if I liked it yet or not. Right now it just felt entirely too strange to be comfortable, but that could change, hopefully.

I strode over to the bath, and checked the temperature. I froze when I saw my reflection, and couldn't look away. The scar was a shock to see when I was so used to unmarred skin. It was an angry dark pink line in an almost perfect crescent moon shape across my cheek. It was raised a bit because it was fresh, and therefore more noticeable. I stood up quickly, and started to fumble with the strings of my breeches. I didn't want to think about it because I actually felt close to tears staring at that mark on my skin.

I unraveled the bandages around my torso, set the hawk necklace next to my clothes, and settled into the tub carefully. I ran water over my back to get the arrow wound used to it, and then dipped completely under to get my hair wet. When I came back up, I heard the door open, and looked around to see Naveen entering the room with an armful of things. She set down her bundle, and dug around in it to hand me a small mound of soap. I took it from her gratefully, and started to scrub my limbs down.

"Here are some towels for you," she said, dropping them next to the tub. "And I could only find two dresses that would fit you without falling off. Mine would have been too small, and I only have three. Sorry."

"It's fine," I said earnestly. "I'll find a way to pay you back for this."

"No need," she said, settling herself on a chair in the corner. "My sister won't be needing them. She's got seven kids now, and she never did get her shape back like Nora did. Besides you need them more than she does. You need to blend in. People were already starting to talk 'cause you wear breeches instead of a skirt."

I blushed at the thought of people talking about me, and dipped back beneath the water to rinse the soap from my hair. I felt the stitches on my back pull when I bent over, and let out a stream of bubbles beneath the water that would have been a shriek of pain if I was at the surface. I came back up coughing to hide the pain I was in, and got out of the water, quickly wrapping a towel around me.

"Don't you have to get back to work?" I asked her curiously as I picked up one of the dresses to observe it.

"Probably," she replied with a shrug. "But I'm in no hurry. We're short 'cause Evangeline went and got knocked up by a soldier who was called back to Rome. Wench went with him, and I've been swamped."

I turned around and mulled that over as I ripped a strip from another of the towels to wrap around my torso as a bandage. Naveen came over to start drying off my hair when I was done. She said she needed help at the tavern, and I needed a way to pay her back…

"Naveen," I said carefully, "who runs the tavern?"

"A man called Damien owns it, but Vanora manages it for him when he's not in…which is every day," she informed me. "Does a better job than he does anyway. Why do you ask?"

"I need to find work, and I thought I might talk to someone about working at the tavern. You said you needed people."

She dropped the towel, grabbed both sides of my face, and kissed me on the cheek. "God bless you!" she exclaimed with a big smile. "You have no idea how hard it is to find barmaids, especially ones who don't moonlight as prostitutes! I will talk to Damien for you."

"Thank you," I said, smiling at her. I had a feeling that I could like Naveen if I got to know her better. She said what she really thought without sugar-coating it, but did her best to spare people's feelings at the same time. That would be the sort of person I would need to help me figure out things around here. She lifted up a nearly transparent piece of white fabric, and held it out to me.

"This is a shift," she explained. "It goes under the dress, else you'll be bearing parts of yourself you don't want to."

I dropped the cloth from around me, and pulled the shift over my head. It fell to my ankles, and the sleeves clung to my arms down to my elbows. Naveen leaned over and adjusted the neckline properly so that it was off my shoulders, running parallel to my collarbone. I fought my blush at having so much of my skin bared. Normally my chest and shoulders were covered by the tunics I wore.

Naveen picked up the lighter of the two brown dresses off the floor, and bunched it up to pull it down over the shift. It had long sleeves, but the neckline only just covered the shift's, leaving my chest just as exposed as before. It was lighter in weight, most likely made for summer wear. The bodice was tight while the skirt was loose, fanning out from my hips down. There were laces on the front and Naveen yanked on them with practiced fingers, tying the knots expertly. I was having a bit of trouble breathing when she was finished. I was going to miss my tunics and breeches. I felt exposed, and smothered at the same time. I looked at the second dress hopefully, but frowned when it was of the same sort of construction as this one. I picked up my necklace, and put it back on, tucking the pendant into the front of the dress.

I bent over the water of the tub again to see what I looked like, careful to avoid looking at my face. My waist looked like it had been squished into forced curves, which I barely had in reality. My chest looked much bigger with my stomach forcibly flattened. The dress, although made of lighter material, felt much heavier than my normal attire, and the sleeves felt itchy against my skin. I could only lift my arms so far with the sleeves of the shift constricting my upper arms, but it would have to do for now.

I started to plait my hair, but Naveen swatted my hands away from my head, and rearranged the dark waves around my shoulders, smiling at the end product.

"You look so much better with your hair down," she said simply. I blushed, and she pretended not to see.

I gathered up my other dress and my old clothes while she picked up the used towels, and left the bathhouse. Tristan was standing outside when the door opened, and I watched his eyes as they scanned over my new attire. He nodded once in approval, and Naveen looked between us with a small smirk.

"I put linens on your bed," she told me, starting to back away. "I have to get back to work though. I'll speak to Nora and Damien for you."

"Thank you," I said. She smiled one last time before turning around to walk away.

"Why is she talking to Damien for you?" Tristan asked.

"They are short a barmaid at the tavern, so I'm going to work there to help Naveen out because she helped me," I told him.

"I don't want you working at the tavern," he grumbled.

"Why not?"

He looked me over again, eyes lingering longer this time. "Men don't know how to keep their hands to themselves," he growled aggressively.

I laughed. "I can take care of myself," I reminded him. "Besides, the people here do not seem to like me much. The men will probably think I'd cut off their ears and noses in their sleep if they tried to bed me."

His eyebrows rose, but I just continued to smile. The door to the hall opened, and several of the knights walked in. I knew Gawain and Galahad, but there were two others there as well, the only ones I didn't know the names of.

"Well, Tristan," the portlier of them all called as they approached. "Looks like you're going to have some trouble keeping this one to yourself. Who knew there was a beautiful woman under the boy's clothes?"

I turned the color of a tomato when they laughed, and Tristan's eyes narrowed infinitesimally.

"Leave her alone," the tall one said. His voice was deep, but his smile was kind. He seemed like the epitome of a gentle giant.

"Ah, forgive me," said the portly one. "I'm Bors."

I was shocked yet again. I would never have expected Vanora to be with this knight out of all of them. He looked to be the oldest, perhaps only second to the tall one. Maybe Vanora just wasn't showing her age yet, but he looked much older than her. Although he definitely had the obnoxiousness that Tristan described.

"This is Dagonet," Bors continued, jabbing the tall one in the side with his elbow. Dagonet smiled at me again, nodding in greeting. I smiled shyly back, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the amount of people I was meeting lately. I wanted to be alone with Tristan, who never made me feel like a strange outcast.

"Tristan," Bors spoke up again, voice unnecessarily loud for the lack of other noise in the hallway, "you need to come to the tavern again, now that you're allowed." He clapped either hand on Gawain and Galahad's backs. "We need someone to bring these two down a few notches in dagger throwing!"

"Been busy," Tristan replied disinterestedly. All eyes turned to me pointedly, and I wanted to disappear. Galahad's eyes purposefully trailed down the skin of my throat to the tops of my breasts that were exposed from the dress. I adjusted the other dress I was holding quickly to cover my chest, and his eyes darted away like a child caught doing something naughty.

"Can you manage to pull yourself away for one night in order to join your remaining brothers for a drink?" Gawain asked with mock formality, raising an eyebrow amusedly.

"Fine," Tristan relented, grabbing my wrist.

"We will hold you to that," Galahad said seriously as Tristan started to tow me towards the stairs. He either didn't hear or didn't care to answer him, just continued to pull me along in the same direction as his room.

Right as we passed Tristan's door, the one across from his opened, and a disheveled woman emerged with a coy smirk. Her dress was buttoned wrong in the back and hanging off of one shoulder, and her hair was the dull red color of autumn leaves just before they turned brown and died. She had a hawk-nose that was much too dominant on her face. She saw us from her peripherals, and turned the full force of her grayish-green eyes on us. Her coy smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and she beelined down the hall.

"Tristan," she purred seductively, bumping me violently out of the way with her shoulder. I tripped, and had to grab onto a torch holder to prevent myself from being thrown to the ground. "Where have you been, handsome?" she continued as if I weren't there. "I've been meaning to see you."

She pushed her whole body up against his, and batted her eyelashes. To me, she just looked utterly foolish. Is this really what men fell for? I could never allow myself to go to such demeaning measures, not even to win Tristan's affections.

I saw movement in my peripheral, and turned to see Lancelot standing in the doorway the ridiculous woman had just exited. He was naked to the waist, and had his arms folded as he leaned against the doorway, smirking at the display before him.

Tristan took a step back to extricate himself from the redhead, and looked down at her boredly, making it clear that she was wasting his time. She crossed her arms, pouting slightly, and then finally spared me a glance. Her upper lip curled disgustedly, and I blushed at the way her gaze lingered on the scar on my face.

"Who's this?" she spat.

"Don't bother with him, Medea," Lancelot spoke up smugly. "He is spoken for now."

Her eyes flicked from Lancelot to me, and then back to Tristan. One of her bony fingers trailed down Tristan's chest as she stared up at him through her thick eyelashes.

"If you get tired of scarface over here, come find me," she said, beginning to walk around him.

I flushed with embarrassment, but Tristan's whole demeanor darkened. He grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her back so roughly she almost fell over. His fingers squeezed her bicep so tightly that I knew it would bruise, and she squeaked when she met his glare. Her hand scrabbled at his to try and loosen the painful grip he had on her, but he didn't relent.

"Tristan, stop!" I said hastily, stepping towards them. Lancelot had unfolded his arms and stood up straight, but made no move to diffuse the situation.

"Apologize," Tristan growled.

Medea turned her tear-filled, panicked eyes onto me. "I'm sorry," she whimpered.

"It's alright," I said quickly. "Tristan, let her go."

He leaned towards her, and whispered something in her ear. One of the tears that had been building up in her eyes broke free, and slid down her cheek pathetically. He pushed her away from him, and she nearly ran to the door to leave.

"Tristan!" I said incredulously. "Why did you do that?"

He wasn't looking at me though, he was gazing at Lancelot. I stepped back so that I could see both of them, my eyes darting from one to the other. They just stared at each other without speaking, and I began to wonder if they were communicating in someway. After what had to have been more than a minute, Lancelot nodded once. Tristan barely inclined his head in return, but they seemed to have come to some sort of accord because Tristan laced his fingers with mine, and pulled me past Lancelot without a word.

**There will be pictures of Naveen and Medea up on my Tumblr today.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews, alerts, and really, just for reading it at all. It's greatly appreciated, and I can't even tell you how much so.**


	30. Out of the Light of the Sun

**Hey everyone. :) How are you all? Good, I hope.**

**So...to me, it seems like the enthusiasm for this is waning severely. The chapter before I received countless alerts and reviews, but for this one: four reviews and one alert. If my writing is fizzling out, let me know. I'm always up for constructive criticism.**

_"Don't get me wrong. I'd never say never. 'Cause though love can't change the weather, no act of God could pull me away from you. I'm just a realistic man, a bottle filled with shells and sand, afraid to look beyond what I could lose when it comes to you. Though I'd see us through, yeah. Chances are we'll find two destinations. Chances roll away from me. Still chances are more than expectations, possibilities over me. It's a fight with two to one. Lay your money on the sun until you crash. What have you done? Is there a better bet than love? What you are is what you bring. You gotta cry before you sing. Chances."-Five for Fighting_

*+*Aderyn*+*

Tristan opened the door to the last room on the left, and shut it behind us. It was set up identical to his, just without the armor. Naveen had made the bed, and my saddlebags were sitting in one of the chairs at the table along with my sword and Ursus's bow.

"What was that with Lancelot?" I asked Tristan as he moved across the floor to look out the window. He shut the curtains quickly, and then lit an oil lamp before answering.

"Just…arranging some things," he muttered. "I have to do something. Will you be alright here while I'm gone?"

I nodded, and he left without another word. I sat down on the bed, marveling at its softness. The mattress in the infirmary was thin, and the straw poked you in uncomfortable places in the night. I'd grown so accustomed to sleeping in a bundle of blankets that it was strange at first to feel a mattress beneath me.

There came a knock at the door, and I immediately told them to come in, thinking that it was Tristan back already. I was dumbstruck when Lancelot stepped in, shutting the door behind him quietly. He'd put a shirt on, and was making a conscious effort to keep distance between us. He leaned up against the door with a supremely serious look. For awhile neither of us spoke, and I was beginning to wonder if he came here just to make me squirm.

"I know that you hate me," he finally spoke, "and with all the right in the world. I want to, for what it's worth, extend my deepest apologies about that day. I thought she was going to attack Tristan, and I did the only thing I could think of to save him. You would have done the same if you saw a sworn enemy approach him with a sword."

"Is that your policy?" I said icily. "Shoot first, ask questions later when there is no one to actually ask?"

He sighed wearily, running one large hand over his face. "I already doubted you would forgive me, but I wanted to tell you despite that. I have just…seen many of my comrades, my friends, fall to the hands of Woads. I understand that you have never seen that side of them, and I do not expect you to change your view just because your situation has changed."

I thought over what he said, and grudgingly, started to see his point. For instance, if I had seen a Saxon approaching Tristan with sword raised, I would have immediately only been able to think of how to cut the man down before harm could come to him. I would not have stopped to ask what he was doing, or ensured that he was a good person with noble intentions. And even if he had told me that he didn't mean any harm, I would not have believed because I have heard so many stories, and seen and felt the effects of their carnage. Everything was a matter of perspective and experience, and Lancelot had simply acted as any person would have if put in his place. Even though he had taken Drenna from me, I knew that the grudge I was holding against him was slightly immature. However, I couldn't let go of my hate so easily. The amount of unadulterated spite I felt when I looked at the man before me was like no rage I'd felt before.

I'd been pensive for so long that Lancelot stood up straight, and had his hand on the doorknob when I started to pay attention again. "I suppose that means I am not forgiven. I shall take my leave then."

His foot was out the door, but I stood up to stop him. "No, wait!" I said hastily. He turned back to face me. "I know that you just wanted to save Tristan, but I...don't think I can forgive you. It's just hard. Drenna was like my mother for more than half my life, and-"

"I get it," he said, cutting me off. "I do." He smiled wryly. "I will have you know that I am not really a terrible person."

I shook my head stiffly. "That is not what I see when I see you. I see the light fading from my mentor's eyes while she told me she loved me. Perhaps one day the animosity I feel will abate, but that day is not this one."

We stood there awkwardly for a minute, but he finally took a step backwards. "Tristan will probably be back soon."

I nodded, and he turned on his heel and left. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding once he was gone. His presence made me feel tense and uncomfortable. I understood his explanation, but he had to understand mine as well. He'd said he watched his friends die. If one of the Woads had apologized to him, I bet he would have not readily forgiven them. I hoped that one day I might be able to forgive him, for I could see that he wasn't just looking to ease his own conscience. He really was sorry. But as for now, I really just needed to consider it more.

Around ten minutes later I was shuffling through my saddlebags for something to do. I'd pulled Melita's stuffed animal from my bag and tucked it in the back of the bottom drawer of the dresser for safe-keeping. Most of the other stuff I'd brought was useless now because it was mostly breeches and tunics. According to everyone, I was no longer allowed to wear those. I was staring gloomily at a pair of breeches that took me nearly five months to construct perfectly when Tristan returned.

"Tristan, I want to wear pants," I told him sadly.

"Wait a while," he told me simply.

"Why?" I whined.

"Arthur says we have to ease you into society," he explained. "Nobody around here is used to a female like you."

I let out a string of unladylike phrases in the Woad language as I tucked the pair of breeches in a drawer of the dresser with my other unused clothing. I shut it, and then stood up to look at Tristan. He was just standing near the bed, watching me like I was a particularly interesting animal he was studying. He took a few steps closer, and locked eyes with me as his hand brushed across the skin of my chest. My breath hitched, but then I realized he was only pulling the hawk pendant out from the dress so that it could be seen.

"Don't hide it," he murmured. I nodded, and he kissed me quickly. When he pulled away, I had to suppress a groan. If I could be kissing him at all hours of the day, I would be. "Do you want to go see Egryn now?"

"Yes!" I squealed excitedly, irritation forgotten, bolting past him and into the hallway. I stopped when I was out there, and looked back in the door. He was staring at me contemplatively with one eyebrow slightly raised.

"I realized I don't know where it is," I admitted embarrassedly. He scoffed and entered the hallway. I was starting to notice a pattern. He seemed more comfortable showing emotion to me the less people around, and even more so when we were behind a closed door. I had questions for him, so many of them. I had to wait for a moment for where we were completely alone without interruptions to ask them, and I had no idea when that would be. I just had to assume that I would instinctively know when the moment was.

The sky was filled with clouds, as usual, but the temperature was warm. I'd never seen a day more beautiful though, feeling more secure than I had in a long time. That dissipated quickly the more and more people I noticed staring at me. I understood their curiosity. I had provided many reasons for them to be so, but it didn't make me any less uncomfortable with it all. Every eye on me made me blush deeper until I was finally the color of the reddest rose when Tristan led me to a building not far from the keep.

The smell of multiple horses and their feces assaulted my nostrils when Tristan unlatched the door, and it got even worse when we stepped inside. I was used to the odor of Egryn, but this was worse. I wrinkled my nose, and squinted around in the darkness to get my eyes to adjust. I heard a shrill neigh of excitement, and beamed. That could only be one horse.

"Egryn!" I exclaimed happily, sprinting towards the back stall. When he saw me, he kicked out wildly at the stall door in an effort to get to me. I hastily unlatched it, and threw it open. He reared up for a moment, and then slammed back down on all fours, happily trotting around me in a circle while I cooed at him, praising him for being brave and cooperative while I was wounded.

"My beautiful boy," I crowed, stroking down his flank while he stomped his front hooves happily. "I have missed you so. You have always been a pain in my ass, but I truly love you, you dunce."

He nipped at my hair, pulling it affectionately. I giggled, and hugged him around the neck.

"Never in my life have I met a horse like that," said a man's voice that was definitely not the man I came here with. I turned, and was met with the sight of an unfamiliar man standing next to Tristan. He was smiling at Egryn and I, shaking his head amusedly. He had a mop of short, dark brown hair, and his face held a multitude of scars. His eyes were dark, but filled with warmth and friendliness that he seemed to exude. His clothes were all rather shabby, and a sword was buckled at his hip. "Nor have I ever seen one react like that to seeing their master again."

I smiled bashfully, and one side of Tristan's mouth lifted a little. "Aderyn," he said, "this is Jols. He runs the stables, and often assists us on longer missions. Jols, this is Aderyn."

He stepped forward with a large, happy smile. "So you are the lady everyone's been talking about," he said, holding out his hand. "I must say that out of all of them, I would have expected Arthur to succumb to being a one woman man first. How anyone managed to catch Tristan will never cease to amaze me."

I smiled over his shoulder at Tristan. "Wasn't that hard, really." Jols and I laughed when Tristan's eyes narrowed to slits.

"That horse of yours is a wild one," he said conversationally. "Nearly took off a few of my fingers when I tried to bring him in. He would only listen to Tristan."

I patted Egryn on the snout. "He's not very trustful, but he makes up for it in loyalty. I do believe he may have been a human in all of his past lives."

"I would agree with you on that," Jols laughed, seeming slightly surprised at my comment. "Well, I have a lot to do, so I'll leave you to it. It was nice to meet you, Aderyn."

"You as well," I said as he walked out of the stables.

I stroked my fingers through Egryn's mane, getting the tangles and hay out of it. A hand appeared over my shoulder, offering a green apple to Egryn. He took it greedily, and I glanced behind me to see Tristan with an identical apple in his hand, shaving off slices with a dagger that I recognized.

"Someone's been stealing," I said cheekily, tapping the knife with one of my knuckles, recognizing it as mine. He offered me a piece of apple without rebuttal, and I took it. We both just stood there for some time, Egryn shuffling around us while Tristan ate his apple, occasionally offering me a piece. When it was almost gone, he gave the remainder to Isolde, who snapped it up happily.

"Back in your stall, mister," I commanded Egryn, holding the door open. He went, albeit a bit unwillingly, and I smiled at him. "I'll try and take you out for a ride tomorrow."

"You can't ride until your stitches are out," Tristan said lowly.

"It will be a slow ride, I promise," I said, and then quickly changed the subject so that he couldn't argue. "Didn't you promise the men you would go to the tavern with them?" He nodded. "When are you going?"

"I'm not," he replied simply.

"Why not?" I questioned confusedly.

"Not leaving you alone," he responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Do not do that," I said firmly. "Don't just stop doing things you normally do because I'm here. I will only stay as long as I know for sure that I'm not disturbing anyone's life or normal routine. If I interfere with the natural order of things, I'll go."

"Go where?" he asked. "You can't go back now."

"I know," I said snippily, "but there are many other places in the world. In fact, I really want to go to the sea. I told you I've always wanted to. I could go there instead."

"You are not going anywhere until I can follow you," he growled. I opened my mouth to tell him he couldn't command me to do anything until I noticed the playfulness in his eyes. He was taking steps towards me like a predator on the prowl for prey.

"Really?" I drawled, smirking. "I think I can go where I please, sir knight. You cannot hold an independent woman down, you know."

"I think," he whispered, snaking his arms around my waist, and pressing himself to me, "that I can do," he kissed my lips, "whatever I want," a kiss to my chin, "with my woman." He kissed my neck, and I instinctively wrapped my arms around his shoulders, slowly moving my hands up his neck to tangle my fingers in his mass of dark hair. He continued to caress my neck, and my heart started to gallop against my ribs in a frenzy. He nipped a spot on my throat, and I giggled compulsively.

He pulled away, and looked down at me pensively. I noticed that he looked calmer than he ever had before. There was no conflict in his eyes or in his movements or words. He seemed…certain, and I hoped it was about his decision to have me stay with him. This side of him was different, but I knew for sure that the change was agreeable.

After a few minutes of silent contemplation, he took my hand, and started to pull me out of the stables. I didn't know where he was taking me or why, but I knew that even if he was planning for us to runaway from everything with only the clothes on our backs that I would have followed without question. I trusted this man unquestionably. Never in my life had I welcomed unexpected changes or suddenness in any form, but with Tristan, everything was different. I didn't care what was coming or what had happened in the past. All I cared about was what was happening now, and I felt more at home than I had ever been before.

*+*Tristan*+*

The noise of the tavern was irking me, as it had been since I arrived. After the stables, I'd spent the rest of the day in only Aderyn's company, staying in her room with her while she set things up. She couldn't stand that things weren't put away, which came from always cleaning house when she lived in the cottage. I watched her silently from my seat at the table as she moved around the room, straightening things or putting them away. She even commissioned me to rearrange the furniture in order to have more room to move around. I don't think she realized just how calming being in her presence was, even when she was demanding that I move a very heavy dresser from one end of the room to the other.

"Tristan," Bors bellowed loudly even though he was sitting right next to me, "where is your woman? I thought she would come with you."

"Tired," I replied gruffly. In truth, I had tried to get out of coming here. Aderyn had commanded me to go though, and then refused when I tried to bring her with me. She said that I needed to spend time with my friends else we might get sick of each other. I'd left grudgingly, but only after ensuring that her wound wasn't causing her any pain and that she wouldn't go out alone.

I had only drank a small amount of ale, and the odor of it rolling off of my fellow knights was giving me a headache. I wasn't in the mood for the boisterous atmosphere of this place. Gawain and Galahad had already wandered off after their women of the night, leaving me in the company of Bors. Dagonet had left after two drinks, and Arthur hadn't even shown up. Lancelot was flirting hopelessly with that woman who had helped Aderyn out earlier, and was failing miserably in getting anywhere with her. She was the only barmaid I knew of who had never indulged herself in the company of the men she served, except for Vanora. Honestly, I respected her more because of that.

A flash of washed out red hair, and my eyes caught the sight of the prostitute from earlier, Medea. She was strewn across the lap of one of the Roman wall guards, and was giggling shrilly as he kissed her neck sloppily. My temper flared at the thought of her so easily insulting Aderyn, poking fun at her scar. It filled me with rage to think of a person so naively making a comment like that about her when they had no idea what she'd gone through to get her scars. She was stronger than they could understand.

She shifted in the arms of the soldier, and I saw the bruise on her arm that I'd put there. My anger quelled to satisfaction as the reaction to the last words I'd whispered in her ear echoed back to me.

"You'll have a few new scars of your own if you ever speak to her like that again," I'd hissed. Even with that scar, Aderyn was a hundred times more attractive than her, and I wouldn't hesitate to make that painfully obvious for the whore.

I was becoming increasingly glad that no one could read my mind because I'd never hear the end of it. My thoughts had become less and less rudimentary, and more moonstruck. I could never voice more than half of them, but it used to be that I never would have thought them either. I'd changed a lot in a short amount of time.

Lancelot glanced over at our table when Naveen looked away. He winked when he caught me looking, and turned back to her when she tried to exit the bar. I was a bit relieved to have our disagreement behind us. I didn't know what had changed in his eyes, but earlier when he had nodded at me, I knew that our little feud was officially over. Even though she'd said nothing of it, I knew he'd spoken to Aderyn about Drenna. I wouldn't ask her what happened. That was between her and Lancelot.

Vanora popped up next to the table, her overlarge pregnant belly knocking over a couple of empty goblets. She handed the child clinging to her side to Bors, who gave her a bewildered look as he took the small girl.

"Tristan, I have to speak to you," she said, ignoring Bors's continuing befuddlement.

I nodded, and she walked off towards the back of the tavern, not even turning to make sure I followed. Bors bellowed after us that he was too drunk to look after a child, and that didn't seem like too false of an assumption. Vanora didn't seem bothered at all as she led me to the back room, shut the door, and turned to face me.

"Tell your lady to be here tomorrow at midday," she said briskly. "I'm just going to show her the ropes, she will not be working yet. I would ask for earlier, but I know she's still hurt. She looks a bit peaky as well, so make sure she eats something."

Even when she was trying to be serious, the motherly side of her showed through. It was next to impossible for her to smother her instinct to nurture.

"Is that it?" I asked, wondering why she'd dragged me to the back room to tell me that.

"No," she responded. "I wanted to say that I was wrong about what I said that day when I told you that it would be best if you let her go. I did not know then what I do now, and you would be a fool to let go of that girl."

I ignored most of that except for one part. "What do you know now that you didn't before?"

She smiled affectionately. "Oh, Tristan, are you that blind? Any fool with eyes can see it."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just continued to look at her while she smiled back knowingly. I had no idea what she was talking about, but I didn't want her to explain it either. Vanora tended to be a very blunt person most of the time, and I was already in a bad mood.

"Why don't you get out of here?" she suddenly spoke. "It's easy to tell that you do not want to be here, so go to your woman."

I didn't need to be told twice, just nodded at her in a goodbye, and walked right out of the back door. For most people, it would probably be next to impossible to navigate the pitch black streets at night, but I was so accustomed to them that I could have walked them blindfolded. I knew where each turn was, could locate each crack in the road, and every alley to avoid.

I finally made it to the keep, and slunk quietly through the hall, bypassing my own room to get to Aderyn's. I stood outside of it for a few minutes, deciding whether or not to knock. It was late, but I wanted to make sure she was alright.

I knocked, and the answering shuffle behind the door was immediate. The latch clicked open, and one blue eye appeared in the crack of the door. She opened it wider once she saw it was me and looked at me confusedly.

"Tristan?" she asked. "I thought you would stay with the knights later."

I shook my head, and she held the door open so I could step in. A candle was burning on her bedside table, and the blankets on the bed were pulled back, the sheets clearly disturbed.

"Were you asleep?" I asked when she appeared in front of me.

"Almost," she answered.

For the first time I noticed what she was wearing, and swallowed compulsively as I tried to quell my sudden arousal. She'd rid herself of the outer dress, and was only in her shift. It was tighter around her waist than it should have been, and was nearly transparent. I diverted my eyes quickly to her face, and tried to ignore the things I saw from my peripherals. This was not the time for the things that were in my mind.

I cleared my throat gruffly. "I will let you sleep then," I said, hastily making my way back to the door.

"Tristan, wait." I froze with my back to her and my hand on the doorknob, waiting for her to speak. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

I glanced at her over my shoulder, and had to bite back my groan. Her eyes were rounded like a sad puppy's and the way her hair was tousled around her shoulders was not helping how very aware of her I was in that moment. Her cheeks flushed when I didn't reply right away, and my hands itched to just rip the shift from her body and throw her on the bed. It took all of my self-restraint not to.

I was going to refuse because of the thoughts in my head. I knew she wasn't ready for that. Despite the things that had happened to her, she still had the mindset of a virgin, and it would take nothing less than a perfect moment for the things I wanted to do to her to become a reality. Tonight was not that night.

"Please?" she whispered. I looked directly into her eyes, and I knew I couldn't say no. I shoved down on those thoughts, forcing them from the forefront of my mind. I could see that she was a bit afraid, and I didn't what her to be.

I strode past her to sit down in one of the chairs at the table, and started to unlace my boots. I heard her sigh of relief when I set them aside, and she smiled shyly when I stood and looked at her. She gently slid under the covers on the opposite side, and I got in next to her. I normally slept without a shirt, but I thought that might have made her uncomfortable so I kept it on. She rolled over to the bedside table, and blew out the candle, enveloping the room in shadows.

When she faced me, I stayed still, letting her take control of the situation. She scooted a little bit closer, and then was still. She repeated that after a few minutes, and then looked up into my eyes through the darkness. It was becoming harder not to just pull her into my arms, but my self-control was very adept and I managed to refrain. She finally pushed herself up enough to place a chaste kiss on my lips before finally closing the distance and snuggling into my chest. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, and held her there until I felt her breathing slow. Even when I knew she was asleep, I waited awhile before closing my eyes myself. When I did, I fell into the calmest sleep I'd had as long as I could remember.

**Yes, I do know that they didn't wear shifts back then, but...oh well. It fits with the whole dynamic, I suppose.**

**Thanks for the reviews I did get. (: I really love getting them. Let me know if you think this is dying. I'll save myself the trouble of the sequel and just focus on "Slowly Searching".**


	31. Just Give Me A Sign

**Hey everyone! Happy belated Memorial Day to all of my American readers!**

**To the more important things: one of my reviewers said I should wrap this up soon, and I am. There are two chapters after this and then a bit of an epilogue. There's just some stuff I need to get out of the way because I don't want to explain it in the sequel. So please just bare with me in the meantime. :P**

**Second, I've resumed work on "Slowly Searching". I'm hoping that I can have the next chapter out by tomorrow, but no promises.**

_"I could stay awake just to hear you breathing. Watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you're far away and dreaming. I could spend my life in this sweet surrender. I could stay lost in this moment forever. Every moment spent with you is a moment I treasure. Don't wanna close my eyes. I don't wanna fall asleep 'cause I'd miss you, baby, and I don't wanna miss a thing. 'Cause even when I dream of you the sweetest dream would never do. I'd still miss you, baby, and I don't wanna miss a thing. Lying close to you, feeling your heart beating, and I'm wondering what you're dreaming. Wondering if it's me you're seeing. And then I kiss your eyes, and thank God we're together. I just want to stay with you in this moment forever. I don't wanna miss one smile. I don't wanna miss one kiss. I just wanna be with you right here with you, just like this. I just wanna hold you close, feel your heart so close to mine. And we'll stay here in this moment for the rest of time."-Aerosmith_

*+*Aderyn*+*

My eyes opened before I was really awake the next day, and I blinked a few times confusedly. The infirmary bed certainly wasn't this comfortable, so I knew I wasn't there. Where could I be? And why was I only warm on one side?

All of the answers came to me when I rolled over in the circle of someone's arms, and came face to face with a mass of tangled hair and plaits. Tristan's eyes were still closed, and his arms tensed around me as he pulled me closer in his sleep. I smirked when his lips twitched, and managed to free one of my arms so that I could trace them lightly with my pinky finger. I moved on to his nose, following the bridge to his forehead where I drew one long invisible line all the way across. I went down his left temple, and then across both eyelids, creating a path. When I started on his jaw, I saw his eyes open in my peripheral vision, but continued to watch my finger as it ghosted across his strong jaw line. Finally, I grabbed his longest braid, and twirled it around the same pinky finger before meeting his gaze.

"You sleep like a hellion," he said unceremoniously, voice thick with sleep.

"My brother always said I kicked," I replied sheepishly.

"You also swing your arms around like you're warding off attackers, and your feet are freezing," he told me.

"Sorry," I mumbled, half-smiling at him.

He sighed, and rested his forehead down on mine, eyes closing again. I thought he would go back to sleep, but I had a feeling that he wasn't even though his breathing evened out. He was just relaxing for once, putting his guard down. I wrapped my arms around his middle, and ran my hand up and down his back soothingly, reveling in the fact that I was probably the only one he let see him like this.

"Fi'n caru ti," I whispered. His eyes opened.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

I just smirked, and then bit my lips to show him that I wasn't going to tell. The reason that I said it in the Woad language was because I wasn't ready for him to hear it yet. It was true that I loved him, but I didn't know how he would take me saying it so soon after our reunion. I had no intentions of chasing him away with one stupid sentence.

"Vanora says you can have a job," he said suddenly, breaking me out of my thoughts. I grinned. "She wants you at the tavern at midday so that she can teach what to do. You are not working yet though."

I rolled away from him, and stood up to stretch. I could sense his eyes on me, and stopped, crossing my arms over my chest to cover myself. I'd forgotten that the shift was pellucid. I shuffled around the bed, bumping my shin on the frame as I blindly tried to navigate the dark room. I heard Tristan snort when I cursed at the pain. Finally, I got to the windows, where I threw back the curtains. I observed the sun's position in the sky, and decided I probably had an hour until I had to be at the tavern to meet Vanora.

I turned back to Tristan, and something about the look in his eyes as he stared at me made me feel extremely exposed, like he was seeing what was beneath my skin rather than just my outside. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. When he picked up his boots to put them back on, I couldn't help but frown.

"You're leaving?" I asked, trying to keep most of the dejection from my voice.

"I'm going to get some food," he replied, finishing the laces on his boots quickly. He stood up, and pecked me on the lips. "I'll be back."

Once he left, I walked over to the wash basin to clean myself up. When I caught sight of the scar in my reflection, I flinched. It was so easy to forget it was there, but that didn't mean that my face was any less disfigured. I'd never thought of myself as attractive, but now I knew I was downright the opposite. Tristan would do well to find a prettier girl. Medea certainly let me know that women coveted him.

I splashed water on my face, and scrubbed my arms and legs. Once I was done that, I dipped my hands into the water, and then combed them through the tangles in my hair, deciding to plait it today. I picked up the second dress Naveen gave me, and pulled it over my head. I started tug at the laces, but quickly realized that I had no chance of doing them on my own. I continued to try though, refusing to admit defeat.

The door opened, and Tristan walked in with two plates in his hands. He stopped when he saw me with my my fingers entangled haphazardly in the strings on my dress, and arched an eyebrow.

"Having trouble?" he asked amusedly.

"No," I said stubbornly. He set the plates on the table, and then stepped in front of me to disentangle my hands. Once he was done that, he began to lace up the dress with a surprising amount of aptitude. He made sure it was tight enough so that it wouldn't fall off, but loose enough so that I could actually breathe normally.

"Is there anything you're bad at?" I asked sourly when he was done.

"No," he answered in mock seriousness.

"Ah, I found one," I said, flopping down in one of the chairs at the table. "Modesty."

His lips twitched into a smirk as he sat down across from me to start tearing at the bread he'd brought. The food consisted of bread, cheese, and a few grapes. I realized how ravenous I was, and attacked the food with all the gusto of a wild animal. I remembered the conversation I had with Drenna almost two months ago when I accused her of being a messy eater, and refused to ever eat as disgustingly as she did. I laughed to myself realizing I was doing just that.

"Why are you laughing?" Tristan asked.

I shook my head. "Nothing important."

We continued to eat in silence until our plates were empty. I stood up, and walked over to the door to get my boots. Once they were on and laced, Tristan stood up.

"I'll walk you to the tavern," he said.

I nodded, and we left the Keep. Once we were out in the sunshine, I realized something.

"What are you doing today if I am at the tavern?" I asked curiously.

"I'll be training with Lancelot and Dagonet, and then practicing archery with Galahad and Bors," he informed me.

I nodded, already my thoughts were jumping to something else. If Tristan was always training or on missions, and I worked, then when would I find time to be alone with him? We had so much we'd yet to discuss, and it couldn't be put off much longer if we were to continue how we were going. Soon he would be relieved of his duty to Rome. What was he planning to do after that? Was there room for me in those plans? If there wasn't, then I had serious thinking of my own to do.

He held open the door of the tavern for me, and I was surprised that we were already there. I hadn't been paying much attention to our surroundings. I was still pretty peeved by my conflicting thoughts and choices.

There was barely anyone in the tavern. Most of the patrons consisted of a horde of children who were running around the back and hitting each other with small wooden swords. I thought of the one Ursus made me, and smiled.

Vanora appeared as we reached the bar, holding the hand of a chubby toddler who was sobbing at a noise level I didn't even know was possible. She made no attempts to coddle him, just continued to drag him behind her. Her pregnant belly was protruding so much I was convinced she may go into labor at any moment, but she seemed undaunted by that.

"Ah, there you are," she said when she caught sight of us. "Tristan, if you see Bors, tell him to get over here or I am going to be celibate for the rest of my life."

"Will do," Tristan said unconcernedly. "Will you be alright?" he asked me.

I nodded, and he gave me one lingering look before he left.

"Five!" Vanora roared. "If you bring that duck in here again, you won't see daylight until you are as old as your father!"

The little girl quickly slammed the back door to the tavern shut, cutting off the path of the duck she'd been coaxing towards her with bread crumbs. She grinned wickedly at me, and ran away.

"Do yourself a favor, dear," Vanora sighed, "and never have children."

I smiled at her. "I don't think Tristan's much of a child person anyway," I pointed out.

She laughed. "Very true."

A man at a table in the back banged his empty mug repeatedly on the table top, yelling for ale. "Oh, keep your damned pants on, I'm coming!" Vanora shouted. She smiled at me. "Here's your first test. Take this pitcher," she slammed one on the counter, "and fill his cup. I will be of more help once Bors takes the kids off my hands. For right now, I am going to see how you handle things."

I nodded determinedly, and reached over to pick up the pitcher. It was heavier than I expected, and I nearly dropped it the instant it was in my hands. I blushed when I heard the man in the back bark with laughter, and began to proceed back to him. I filled his cup with ale, and he leered at me.

"'Bout time," he grunted. "Haven't seen you around here before."

"I only came to the Wall a few weeks ago," I said, itching to get away from him. Something about the way his eyes looked made me uncomfortable, and it wasn't just the drunken fog that hovered over them. Besides, any man who was already this drunk at midday was a man who should be avoided.

"Did you now?" he said, a lustful smirk lighting up his face. "Well, I would love to…teach you a few things about the men at the Wall."

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "No, I think I know all I need to."

His smirk turned to a scowl, but I didn't stick around for his retort. I made my way back to the bar, and Vanora was staring distastefully at the man over my shoulder when I returned.

"He has always been a shifty one," she said, bouncing the still sobbing toddler on her knee while sitting on one of the bar stools. "Anyway, I suppose I should tell you a few things before I throw you to the wolves. Whenever anyone comes in and sits right at a table, go straight to them to ask what they want. Elaine and I cook most of the time. Naveen is not allowed behind a stove for any reason. She can fix the ingredients, but don't let her do anything else. The others are too empty-headed for even that." She seemed completely unconcerned about insulting the women that she worked with.

"When it's quiet like this, you should be personable with the customers; makes them want to come back. Now most of the girls that serve here are also prostitutes." She ignored the widening of my eyes. "When they find work with a customer, they leave for the act, and then come back to continue work. You will not be doing that, of course." I shook my head emphatically, eliciting a smile from her. "However, I know you are still not completely back on your feet from being ill, so you just let me know if you ever need to slow down for a minute, alright?"

I nodded, and she set the calmed child back on the ground. He hobbled over to me, and clamped down on the hand that had been sitting on my knee. The little boy stared imploringly into my eyes, and I smiled down at him. He caught sight of the hawk pendant, and latched onto it with his other hand.

"Burr," he said cheerfully.

"Bird," I articulated, pulling the chord over my head so he could look at it closer.

"Burr," he repeated, sticking one of the wings in his mouth. I giggled.

Vanora chuckled, smoothing her hands over the dark red tuft of hair on his head. "He's a bit of a handful, but he is still the sweetest of the bunch. Most of them seem to have inherited Bors's knack for driving me mad."

The little boy let go of the hawk. "Mama!" he cried, going back to her and yanking on her skirt. "Bird!" he cried, pointing at me.

"Well, listen to that," Vanora laughed. "That's the first word he has been able to pronounce properly besides 'mama', 'papa', and 'ass'." Both of my eyebrows shot up, and she adopted a sour look. "Galahad does not often check to see who's in his company before he curses. He owes a few of his scars to me once I got to him."

I chuckled with her, and then she glanced over my shoulder. "Oh, where is that fool of a man? I have work to do." Her eyes lit upon me, and she smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Addi, but could you do something for me?" I nodded immediately, my heart flinching at the sound of my sister's old nickname for me. Vanora had fallen into it so naturally that it caught me off guard. "We need some water to make stew. Could you go to the well in the square and get me some with the pot in the back?"

"Of course," I answered, standing up to follow the order.

"It will be on the hook by the door," she said gratefully. "Thank you so much for this."

"It's no problem," I assured her with a smile, heading to the back to grab the pot. As she said, it was hanging from a rusty nail in the wall by the door. I picked it up, and decided to leave through the back in order to avoid the creepy man from before. I walked through the narrow alley between the tavern and another building, and out into the sunlit street.

This time was no different than any other, and eyes followed me hungrily as I strolled down the street. A group of young teenage girls all froze when I got closer to them, staring with hostile eyes. The one that was clearly the eldest leaned down towards her fellows, and said just loud enough for me to hear, "My mother says that she sacrificed and ate newborn infants to put a love spell on Sir Tristan."

I stumbled over the front of my dress, and locked eyes with her once I'd righted myself. All of them squealed with fear, and took off running. More people turned their heads, and began to blatantly gawk at me. I shook my head a little to rid it of the accusation I'd just heard, and kept walking.

It was only when I was near the stables that I realized I had absolutely no idea where the square was. I hadn't seen much of the fort, but of what I'd seen, there had been no well. I began to internally curse myself.

Without warning, someone threw open the door of the building to my right, and rammed into me with all the force of a charging bull. I yelped from the excruciating pain in my back as we fell, the pot rolling away to bang against the building the person had left from. My breath was completely gone from my lungs because whoever this was had landed on top of me, and was pinning me down with their body. My back was screaming in protest, and I wriggled beneath the person, trying to get out.

"Why don't you watch where you're - oh, it's you."

I looked up, and met mischievous brown eyes beneath a mop of wild brown curls. The name popped into my mind unbidden: Galahad. He was the one who'd tried to slit my throat, and blatantly stared at my breasts. Even now a slow smirk was starting to curl onto his face. I scowled at him.

"Are you planning on getting off of me?" I snapped.

"Not really," he said slyly, putting his elbow in the dirt next to my head, and propping his chin on his hand. "I thought you would be working, but this is a pleasant surprise."

"I was working until you almost took my head off running out of that building," I said coldly. He sighed and stood up, offering me his hand to help me up too. I dusted off my dress, and went to retrieve my pot.

"Right. Sorry about that," he said earnestly, giving me an apologetic half-smile. "I didn't think anyone would be standing quite so close to the door."

My back was throbbing, but my pride didn't want him to know he'd hurt me. Silence lapsed between us, and we both stood there awkwardly, staring off in different directions.

He looked at my pot, and said with an air of desperation. "Are you collecting water?"

"I was supposed to be," I admitted, "until I realized that I have no idea where the well is. Then this charming gentleman knocked me to the ground and sat on me whilst I was trying to figure out what to do."

He barked a laugh. "You know, you're not so bad. Come on, I'll take you to the well."

He turned to walk away before I could reply, and all I could do was follow him, wondering if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.

He kept to his word, and led me right to the well which was actually close to the tavern, just in the opposite direction from where I'd been traveling. He even showed me how to collect the water, and insisted on bringing it back for me.

When we were back at the tavern, and he'd put the pot on the counter, I thanked him profusely.

"No need," he said, waving me off. "It was repayment for nearly snapping you in half."

I laughed lightly. "Yes, well, I do suppose it was owed to me."

"If you want to thank me physically, I'll be glad to accept," he said devilishly, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. I was about to ask what he meant when Naveen swept into the room as gracefully as ever. I saw the way Galahad's eyes clouded over at the sight of her, and hid my smirk at his lusty expression.

"Stop flirting with her, Galahad," she said, beginning to cut up a lump of raw meat without noticing the way he looked at her. "Tristan would flay you, and have your body parts nailed to the Wall as an example if he knew what you were doing."

Galahad's face fell. "Right, forgot." He nodded to me. "You're welcome."

With that, he left the tavern through the back door, throwing one last longing glance at Naveen over his shoulder. I blinked at the door for a few moments once he was gone, and then turned to Naveen.

"Would he really kill his own friend just for speaking to me?" I asked.

"For speaking to you? No," she responded. "For lying on you in the street while you demanded he get off? Yes."

My entire face flushed. "We weren't doing…that! We fell, and-"

"Oh, I know," she laughed. "I was watching from a window nearby. But so were a lot of other people, and I'm afraid that the whispers about you may have increased."

I groaned, resting my head in my hands. "Great," I grumbled.

She glanced up, and then smiled friendlily. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself," she laughed, tossing a piece of carrot at me. "Come over here, and help me cut things up for the stew."

I smiled at her, and threw the carrot back. She dodged it deftly, and winked as she handed me a second knife so I could join her.

/\/\/\/\/\

I spent most of the day doing one meaningless task after another for Vanora. I helped with the stew (earning Vanora's seal of approval now that she knew I could cook), swept the floors, cleaned dishes, and served the small amount of people who came in. It was tedious, but I knew that was better for me with my back injury. It felt worse since Galahad ran into me.

As it got closer and closer to nighttime, more and more barmaids showed up to deal with the growing crowd. Eventually Vanora told me to shadow Naveen, to watch her movements rather than working myself. She said that it would be a lot to handle, and would probably have me just following Naveen around for tonight and tomorrow until she thought I had the hang of it.

I trailed after Naveen like a child after its mother, carrying extra mugs, plates, or bowls for her. She gave me tips on how to slip through the crowd without dropping things, and how to be personable with the customers fleetingly during the rush. I took it all in, somehow making more and more space in my mind for everything she told me.

When night had been upon us for a few hours, Naveen and I took a breather at the bar. She was thankfully one of the barmaids who didn't double as a prostitute. She'd told me just how vile the idea was to her, and I agreed. I could never sell myself for money, not even if I was desperate for coin.

"Gods, it's busier than usual," she commented tiredly. "It's not normally like this. Most of the time we actually have room to breathe while we're serving."

"I would hope so," I muttered, resting my head against the bar top. On top of having to learn so much and deal with the rush, I had heard upsetting talk as I passed people that made me feel even more overwhelmed. I'd heard whispers that Tristan was paying me to be his personal whore, talk of him slaughtering a Woad prince in order to wed me, and someone even said that we were the children of the king of the Christian hell, sent here to do his bidding and wreak havoc on mankind with our incestuous relationship. Those ones were just silly, but some were more disturbing like the people who claimed that he abused me and was the one to scar my face.

"Busy tonight," commented a soft voice. I looked up, and a mousy girl with flowing blonde hair stood there with a soft smile. She was the most dainty thing I'd ever seen with her thin, frail limbs and porcelain skin. She was like a glass doll. I had no idea how she managed to get through the crowd without someone breaking her. "Oh, hello," she whispered when she noticed me.

Naveen smiled at her fondly. "Aderyn, this is Elaine, my dear friend and roommate. Elaine, this is Aderyn, she is the new victim," she introduced, winking at the end.

Elaine gave me a small sort of wave. "It is nice to meet you," she said, collecting a dish of stew, and going back to her job.

"She is the only other one who doesn't work as a prostitute," Naveen informed me. "She's sweet, but she does not speak up much. I've had to pull more than one man off of her because he wasn't listening when she told him to back off."

Elaine came back then, cutting off Naveen's description of her. Her eyes trailed back to the main part of the bar, and I recognized the look immediately. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, and filled with affection. I followed her gaze, and saw that Lancelot had just entered the tavern. He sat down with a table of Romans who were playing dice, and joined their game. She sighed lovingly, and made a beeline towards him before any other waitress could.

"Is she-"

"Head over heels for whoremonger over there? Yes," Naveen answered my unfinished question. "And it's no use warning her off, she never listens."

At that moment three fellow barmaids came giggling to the back with Medea at their head. I had been less than thrilled to learn that she worked here as well. Naveen scowled at them, but they took no notice. They would whisper, and then giggle some more. They noticed me, and Medea's eyes lit up. She whispered something to her neighbor, indiscreetly pointing at me at hip level. They all burst out laughing.

"Oi, you have something to say?" Naveen snapped. "If so, we'd love to hear it."

They all shut up, even blushing a bit. Naveen glared at them until they walked away uncomfortably, and I beamed at her. I could sense my first friendship at the Wall forming.

**Yeeeeeah, picture of Elaine will be up on the tumblr once I post this, so check it out if you wish. (:**

**Hope everyone enjoyed. :D**


	32. There's Something Buried in the Words

**You guys, I am so sorry. Yesterday was a weird day, and I meant to post this instead of posting the other one again. I was on a lot of allergy medication, so instead of thinking I'd already posted it, I thought that the site glitched and posted it twice so I just deleted one. I'm not very computer savvy when I'm on my allergy meds.**

**I'm rapping this up as fast as I can! You guys are either really eager to get to the sequel or you're just getting sick of me (I hope it's the first one), so hopefully I'll be able to post another one tomorrow before I go to my friend's party. I don't think I'll be able to Saturday because I'm going to my cousin's graduation, and then back to their house for most of the day. :( But I'll try!**

_"Is this a dream? If it is, please don't wake me from this high. I'd become comfortably numb until you opened up my eyes to what it's like when everything's right. I can't believe you found me when no one else was looking. How did you know just where I would be? Yeah, you broke through all of my confusion. The ups and the downs, and you still didn't leave. I guess that you saw what nobody could see. You found me, you found me. So, here we are, and that's pretty far when you think of where we've been. No going back. I'm fading out all that has faded me within. You're by my side. Now everything's fine. And I was hiding 'til you came along, and showed me where I belong."-Kelly Clarkson_

*+*Tristan*+*

Aderyn had been working at the tavern for a week and a half now, and so far, there had been no problems with the townspeople besides rumors that I knew got under her skin. I could see the slight crease between her eyebrows and the frown that turned down her lips whenever the whispers reached her. She'd never tell me just how much it bothered her though.

Vanora said she was doing well with work, albeit a bit nervous at times. I could see it too, the way she scurried away from the customers as fast as possible. Most men still made her slightly anxious, but no one could blame her for that after what she'd been through. A few times I'd watched from across the room when men got too touchy with her, and felt my anger boiling up. She seemed to have a knack for escaping those situations, always evading their touch at the last second. She had no idea how many times she'd saved me from getting kicked out of the tavern yet again.

She was chattering away to me now as we made our way to the infirmary to get the stitches taken out of her back. I teased her about talking too much, but took in every word she spoke and enjoyed listening to even the most ridiculous things she said. Galahad joked that she held up both ends of our conversations, but it may actually have been true. Neither of us minded, and I knew she could tell that I listened and could find responses in even the smallest of my gestures. That's what made our relationship so easy.

"I cannot wait to be rid of these damn stitches," she grumbled, making an elderly woman nearby scowl at her foul language. "And this bloody sling!"

She gestured wildly with her right arm, displaying the sling to me even though I was well aware of it. Five days ago, Severina had made an attempt to fix her shoulder by snapping it out of place, and then back in. I'd stood outside of the infirmary, my skin crawling at the sound of her screams of pain. She'd come out with bloodshot eyes, a wide smile that didn't quite reach them, and an order to stop working for a few days. I'd needed a strong drink after that.

We entered the infirmary then, and the apprentice, Desiderius, was there. He looked up when he heard us, and his eyes lit up at the sight of Aderyn. My jaw ticked with annoyance. That boy was really starting to aggravate me. I could tell he knew it too by the way his smile faltered and then died when he saw me.

"Mother, Aderyn is here," he called over his shoulder.

"Better be!" the older woman snapped as she appeared from the back room. "I have got no time for dawdling today, girl, so get over here! Vanora's in labor, and she is raising hell back there."

Aderyn's eyes widened as she followed the order and sat on the bed next to her. "Vanora's in labor?" she asked.

"Has been since early this morning," Desiderius replied, coming over with the supplies for his mother. A scream tore through the room, but it sounded more like it stemmed from anger than pain. "Nobody can find Sir Bors, and she has been having a right fit about it."

Aderyn looked at me with one of her eyebrows raised. I knew exactly what she was thinking. We'd seen Bors on the way here when we stopped at the stables. He was passed out in the stall with his horse, one hand clenched around an empty wine jug. Neither of us said anything, but I figured Aderyn would want to stop and wake him when we returned to the keep. Vanora had taken up the roll of mother hen to her, and often squawked at me about her being too thin and needing to make sure she ate more. She fussed over her endlessly.

The healer untied the sling, and Aderyn let her arm down. The three of us watched as she experimentally rolled her shoulder. It was obviously not offset anymore, and made her look less ungainly, though her wrist was still crooked. She lifted her arm over her head, and hissed in pain.

"Well, don't start overdoing it right away!" Severina said impatiently. "You should be alright to go back to work, but nothing more strenuous than that."

Aderyn let out a sigh of relief. "Thank you," she said. "I've felt useless these past few days. I hate being off my feet."

Desiderius laughed at her. "It was only five days! Surely it could not have been that bad."

"It was!" she assured him fervently as Severina cleaned the knife she would use to cut the stitches out. "I'm used to working all the time. Since I've come here, I have only worked nights, with a few exceptions. I don't know what to do with myself during the day."

"You could get a second job," Desiderius suggested. "I work nights for the blacksmith for coin." He glanced at his mother with annoyance. "Learning the healing trade sadly doesn't pay."

"A second job?" Aderyn muttered to herself contemplatively. I could already see the wheels in her head turning, mulling it over.

"Not right now," I told her quietly. She looked up, barely focusing on my words. "Wait until you're fully healed to think about it."

"Yes, right…," she said. I could tell she was already planning on disregarding my words completely.

Severina stepped in front of her, and tugged the strings of her dress to loosen it. Aderyn blushed like she'd simply ripped the dress off. The boy was behind her, and pushed the sleeves of the dress off her shoulders so that it fell to her waist. I tensed, and took a step closer to her, just to make sure he wasn't looking at anything other than the wound on her back. She noticed my irritation, and patted my hand twice, her silent way of telling me it was fine. I didn't back down though, because it did not seem fine to me.

The boy backed up at my movement, and allowed his mother to take his spot. She made an incision in the stitches, and then started to pull them out. At first I thought it wasn't paining Aderyn, but then I noticed the way her bottom lip was lodged between her teeth and her eyes were wide as she tried not to make a sound. I used my thumb to extricate her tortured lip, and she grabbed that hand instead, squeezing it so tightly that my knuckle bones ground against each other.

"Done," Severina said, quickly followed by another scream from the back room. The old healer sighed tiredly, and went to the pregnant woman without another word. Vanora started to yell the second the door was closed, but the words were muffled and unintelligible.

"Do you mind?" Aderyn asked as she stood up, gesturing to the laces of her dress. I started to tie them, my eyes occasionally flickering to the boy who was watching her so intently that he didn't even notice my cold stares.

"Thank you," she said brightly when I was done, leaning up to kiss my cheek. She glanced behind her to make sure neither of the healers were in hearing distance and then whispered, "I think we should go get Bors."

I nodded, and allowed her to lead the way out. She'd become rather adept at navigating the fort, although only the main body of it. Once she was past the square, closer to the residences, she became hopelessly confused. I had to admit that I was surprised at her progress. There were only small setbacks so far that really couldn't outbalance her successes. I felt a deep swell of pride when I looked at her now, confidently striding through the crowd.

"Tristan!"

I turned at the sound of my name, and saw Galahad jogging up to me.

"Galahad!" Aderyn exclaimed happily, appearing at my side. The youngest knight grinned at her, inclining his head. "How are you?"

"I am well," he responded. "I see you are too. Got rid of that sling?"

"Yes, thankfully," she said. "No more stitches either. I feel like a new woman."

Galahad laughed. It came as no surprise to me that she'd clicked instantly with him. They both wore their hearts on their sleeves and talked incessantly. I did not know when this friendship began, but had seen them conversing with each other like old comrades many times at the tavern and on the street during the day. It amazed me that she could be so friendly towards a man who'd once had no second thoughts about cutting her throat, and had only days before protested against her being allowed to live here.

"Do you need something?" I asked him quickly, trying to get his attention on me before the conversation with Aderyn became too involved. It would be impossible to find a break in their voices to speak if it did.

"Right," Galahad said, turning to me. "Arthur wants to speak to you. Something about a scouting trip."

My eyes darted to Aderyn. She was frowning at Galahad now, like it was his fault that this happened. I'd always known that this would come up eventually, but that didn't make me like it anymore now that it was here. I nodded briskly, and Galahad said his goodbyes to us both. I turned to face her.

"I'd better go," I said tonelessly. "Will you be alright alone?"

She nodded, but the frown was still there. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it slightly when I passed her, wishing nothing more at that time than to have my discharge papers in my grasp.

*+*Aderyn*+*

I continued to the stables by myself when Tristan left, feeling the weight of a day that started good come crashing down around me. I didn't want him to leave, even if it was just a short scouting trip. I felt more comfortable in the fort alone this past week, but that didn't mean that Tristan wasn't welcome company. We hadn't even spent a night alone since I'd left the infirmary. We never did anything that wasn't chaste, but I was accustomed to the heat and security he provided me with at night.

I entered the stables, and Egryn whinnied happily from across the building, ecstatic at seeing me twice within an hour. I smiled. "Hold on a moment," I told him, stepping to the stall across from him to Bors's horse. Sure enough, the knight was still passed out there, his hands holding onto the jug as if it were the only thing keeping him tied to the ground. His horse seemed completely unbothered, which lead me to believe that this happened often.

"Bors," I said gently. "Bors." He continued to snore, so I opened the stall, and stepped in. His horse seemed to get a bit uneasy until I whispered to him in the Woad language, reassuring him that I was not a threat.

"Bors," I called again, louder this time. I nudged his foot with mine. He snorted unattractively, and rolled away. I found myself wondering again how this man had managed to attract a woman like Vanora.

With no other option in sight, I cupped my hands, dipped them in the water trough, and then dropped the liquid over his face. He leapt awake, roaring insanely. He was on his feet, reaching for the knives that weren't there. He blinked stupidly, but finally noticed me after a few moments.

"What the hell are you doing, girl?" he gasped, wiping the excess water off of his face. He looked around, surveying his surroundings. "How the hell did you drag me all the way to the stables?" He rubbed his head with a groan, but spoke again before I could answer. "Did you drop me down a flight of stairs? Because my head is killing me." He paused again, looking me over, and this time I almost had the words out when he spoke with a smug smirk. "Listen, girlie, I appreciate the compliment, but I wouldn't stray from my precious Nora. Plus, Tristan would try to get revenge, and I would not want to have to kill a friend. I know he's not me, but Lancelot would be a better source for what you're looking for."

I scowled at him, dipping my hand back into the water and flicking the droplets at him. He flinched away.

"You passed out drunk here last night, gods know why," I told him boldly. "I couldn't drag you anywhere, even if I wanted to, and if I were to attempt it, it certainly would not be to have a go at bedding you. Don't flatter yourself. However, it might be to throw you down some stairs, so good guess. Oh, and your 'precious Nora' is having your baby in the infirmary, and has been screaming bloody murder for you since dawn."

He looked positively flabbergasted. Suddenly he let out a surprised yell, and barreled past me and out the door of the stables. I could hear him yelling about having a baby until he was well up the street.

I rolled my eyes, and left his horse's stall in favor of Egryn's. His was right next to Isolde's, which suited him perfectly. He sniffed around the bodice of my dress excitedly, but became a bit dejected once he didn't catch the scent of any treats.

"You are going to get fat," I said warningly. "Nobody likes a fat warhorse."

"I must admit," a manly voice said, causing me to whirl around, "that I don't think I have come across anyone as good with horses as you."

It was Jols. He had a pitchfork in one hand, and the reins of a smaller brown mare in the other. I bashfully turned my head to look at Egryn.

"Actually, I think it's that you have never seen a horse as good with humans," I said, patting Egryn's snout.

He laughed, and lead the horse into an empty stall on the other side. "That isn't it," he quipped. "If you had seen him when Gawain brought him in, trampling all over the place like he was standing on hot coals…"

"He was just worried about me," I said apologetically. "He'll be alright now that he knows you all have not tried to kill me or something."

"He has little episodes where he starts to get frustrated and kicks at the walls of the stall, even if no one is in here when he starts."

"Oh, it was probably just a spider. He doesn't like them." Jols gawked at me, and then burst out into jovial laughter that I had no choice but to smile at.

"You speak of him like he is a human," he said, chucking the pitchfork into a bale of hay, and coming to stand next to me.

I just shrugged. To me, he was human, my best friend and only constant companion when I lived alone. Egryn had not ever really been just an animal to me, not really. Jols grinned, and shook his head at me like I was an amusing child telling him a fairy tale. I whispered to Egryn, and he stamped his hooves, loving the attention.

"If I did not know you were already working in the tavern, I would offer you a job as a stablehand," Jols said conversationally. "The latest recruit decided that cleaning up horse shit was too good for him."

I perked up at the mention of a job. "Well, I don't think I'm too good to clean up horse shit," I replied, voice filled with implication, "and I've been looking for another job for the daytime…"

He looked me over thoughtfully. "It's hard work. I have had a good amount of men quit because it was too much for them."

"I lived on my own in a house in the middle of the forest," I scoffed. "I spent half my day tending to Egryn, and I'm used to hard work."

He contemplated that, and I held my breath excitedly. Finally, he smiled. "Two conditions. One, I know you were injured, so you can't start until I have a letter of approval from the healers telling me you're up to it. Second, I don't want Tristan to storm in here and decapitate me, so he has to say it's alright as well."

I beamed. "Thank you so much, Jols! I'll talk to Tristan and Severina!"

"Alright then," he said cheerfully. "Let me know whenever you've got your answers."

"I will!" I said excitedly as he walked away.

Was it really that easy to find a job that would keep me occupied like I was used to? This seemed like a dream. Why had my day been bad before? The memory of Tristan going to see Arthur replayed in my head, and my frown came back. I stroked Egryn's snout one last time before deciding to go to Tristan's room to wait to hear the news from Arthur.

/\/\/\/\/\

Tristan left the next morning at dawn. There was word of Woads tracking around some villages to the south, and Arthur wanted to check on it before he charged into battle. It would be at least two days. After Tristan told me, we spent the rest of the day in relative silence, both lost with our own thoughts. I chose not to bring up my possible employment at the stables, not wanting to start a probable fight when he would leave tomorrow. I stayed with him though, terrified that these might be the last moments we spent together. Any mission could be his last.

I walked him to the stables, and stayed by his side when he lead his horse to the gates on foot. We stopped while the gates were opening, and looked at each other, using our eyes to say the goodbyes that we didn't want to speak. Barely anyone was moving around at this time of morning, and the silence added to the intensity of this moment. He moved closer to hold my face between his large hands, and first kissed the scar on the side of my face before claiming my lips. I held my hands on top of his, fingers laced between, and wished with my whole heart that he would come back safe. He pulled away eventually, fixed me with a startling look from his amber eyes, and then turned to mount his horse. When he rode out of the gates, I ran up the steps of the Wall, and watched him. It may have been my love-drunk mind speaking for me, but I could have sworn he looked right back at me from miles away before disappearing into the woods beyond the Wall.

I ambled back to my room, not knowing what to do with myself. I decided to go back to sleep, but it felt freezing in the bed without him. The worry in my chest seemed to grow when I caught his scent from the pillow next to me. I couldn't lie there, and chose instead to get dressed and find some food.

I went to the market, and used some of my money from the tavern job to buy an apple and some bread. I devoured the bread in a few bites, and then used the knife to cut off sections of the apple. It made me think of Tristan.

With nothing else to do, I decided to go visit Vanora in the infirmary. Bors had announced last night that he had another son, but Tristan and I had skipped out on the celebration in the tavern.

Desiderius was in the healing rooms, and beamed like I was the best thing he saw all day when I entered.

"Aderyn!" he exclaimed. "What brings you here? You're not hurt again, are you?"

I chuckled. "No, I promise. I am trying to stay as unharmed as possible. I'm only here to see Vanora."

"Ah. Follow me," he replied, turning to go to the back room.

He opened the door, and peaked in. "Lady Vanora, you have a visitor," I heard him say.

"Boy, I'm no lady," she responded. "I don't know any lady who has eleven bastards. Send them in."

Desiderius stood back so I could enter the room. It was well-lit with torches on the walls, and there was only one bed in it. Vanora was lying there with a bundle held against her chest. She looked even prettier than usual, the glow of being a mother yet again making her seem much more approachable.

"Addi," she said happily, sitting up further. "Come here, dear. How's your arm?"

I sat down in the chair next to the bed, and smiled at her. "Much better, thank you. How are you feeling?"

She snorted. "Like I just birthed my eleventh child," she said sardonically, gazing down at the small bundle. "It's a mixture between pride and wondering why I've been cursed by the gods as to be so fertile."

I laughed. "You're a good mother. It wouldn't matter if you had your own army of children, you would still manage perfectly."

She turned to me with an affectionate smile. "You are too sweet. Tristan should be careful. Some man is going to come snatch you up while he's away."

I blinked, caught off guard by the idea that another man besides the taciturn scout found me desirable, and the reminder that Tristan was gone. Vanora took my startled look as the latter, and patted my knee.

"It gets easier with time," she said quietly. "When Bors left the first time after we became lovers, I cried for a week until he came home. The next time, I only cried the first two days, and then after that I didn't cry at all because I realized that the yearning wasn't getting me anywhere. I have faith in his skills as a fighter, and in Arthur as a leader. I know that he'll always come home to me. He may be worse for wear sometimes, but he always returns."

I tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. "But I have seen him hurt, and I saw how he denied that it was that bad, even when he was almost falling over himself from it. Even if someone killed him I doubt he would fall until the next day because he's so stubborn about admitting when he's in pain."

Vanora sighed. "The thing you have to realize is that they are the ones that have made it. Out of the thirty-five Sarmatian knights that came to Briton, they were the ones skilled enough to make it to their final year. They are the best of the best. I cannot tell you the last time I've actually seen any of them so badly wounded before Tristan met you."

I considered that, and realized she spoke the truth. Tristan had survived through battles much bigger than even the one I'd seen him fight against Drenna and the Woads. He'd lived through many injuries. The stories behind his scars could fill enough books for an entire library. I'd seen Tristan's skill for myself, had even lost a sparring match to him when he was injured. I knew he was a talented fighter.

Although the weight of the concern lessened, my heart wouldn't completely let it go. I smiled convincingly at Vanora though, and she launched right into the list of things she was going to do to torture Bors for being passed out in a horse stall when she went into labor, most of which seemed to include leaving him alone with large amounts of children for long amounts of time.

**I know you all probably don't see it, but there are actually things going on in these last few chapters, things that I need to get out of the way before the sequel. I know I'm dragging it out, but just bare with me, please.**

**Thanks for the reviews and alerts, and sorry for the confusion with the last chapter!**


	33. Your Tears Are Empty

**Hey everyone! How are you all? Well, I'm fantastic because school is OUT! Hellllll yeah! I've been over it since September, haha.**

**But anyway, I don't really have anything important to say. This chapter is dedicated to ****Gwilwillith**** for not being sick of me. Haha, thanks for your review! :)**

_"I'm sorry for needing you to carry me. So simple sometimes when you're standing next to me. You never change; you never stay the same. Like a picture perfect sunrise every time, with one last song to sing. Take it all away from me, and tell me how you want this to be. I want you. I need you. A life without you would make me wonder why I'm here. Until I found you, nothing ever seemed so clear. I lose myself in everything you say. I lose myself in everything. I never knew that I could feel this way. I never knew that I could feel."-12 Stones_

*+*Aderyn*+*

Naveen slammed two handfuls of mugs down on the bar, making me jump from surprise. She was bristling wildly, glaring over her shoulder like she was trying to make the source of her anger burst into flames.

"She is so _vile_," she hissed viciously, walking around the counter to stand next to me, helping me fill up more mugs. The tavern was busy tonight, four days after Tristan left. I'd had no time to dwell on it since I'd arrived at work, however. Vanora was already back to work, and was cooking in the back with her newborn baby propped in a basket on the counter. Although Bors had groveled at her feet for two days, she conveniently disappeared with her baby for four hours yesterday, leaving him alone with his other ten children. People who came across Bors that day still swear that they saw him sobbing.

"Who is?" I asked Naveen, setting mugs on a tray so I could carry them.

"Medea." She uttered the name like it was a curse, and scowled across the room. I caught sight of the woman too, and couldn't help but narrow my eyes. She looked as self-involved as usual, twirling her hair and trying to look seductive. The man on her lap bought it, and I knew just why. It was Gawain, and I'd already refilled his cup five times tonight.

I sighed frustratedly, and picked up my tray to brave the crowd. I dodged flying objects, ducked around drunks who barely had control of their movements, and danced out of the reach of grabbing hands as I delivered drinks to the people at their various tables. My last stop was at the knight's table, where I dumped my tray down, and passed out drinks to Lancelot, Dagonet, and Galahad. Gawain grabbed my arm, and attempted to focus on my face. I did my best to ignore the woman on his lap, but I could feel her scornful eyes on me.

"Refill it," Gawain slurred, nodding to his cup.

"Don't you think you have had enough?" I asked, sounding like I was talking to a child.

"No. No, I don't think so," he continued, shaking his head so that his long hair flew everywhere. "I've only had…two."

"You are lying, you fool," I laughed, refilling his cup anyway. "But no matter. I won't be the one to regret this in the morning."

I liked serving the knights because I could let my guard down. None of them ever tried to get too handsy with me, and their friendly talk was genuine instead of fueled by drunken lust. Although I still felt awkward around Lancelot, he made an effort at small talk if I was around. The other knights tried to be open-minded of my presence because of Tristan, and Gawain and Galahad had made a point to see me during the day, to ensure that I was doing alright without Tristan around. Galahad's motives were entirely his own, but out of the other Sarmatians, I think Tristan may have been closest with Gawain. He spoke to him the most, at least. That may have been what fueled the blond knight's sudden desire to secure my safety. I was walking away from the knights when one of their hands lashed out, and grabbed the back of my dress to pull me back, plopping me down on their lap.

I retract all earlier statements about thinking it was alright to put my guard down around the knights.

I twisted in the person's hold to see Galahad beaming drunkenly at me. I wriggled to get away, but he held tighter.

"What do you think you are doing?" I asked stonily.

"I," he paused to hiccup violently, "need you to know that I think yer just…really nice. I really," another hiccup, "like you."

He sloppily kissed my cheek, and I scowled at him as I wiped his spit off my cheek. He continued to hold me there with his head rested on my shoulder, smiling with his eyes closed. My breath came out in an irritated huff.

"Galahad, I'm working," I reminded him.

"Break time," he muttered sleepily, not relenting on his hold.

Naveen appeared in front of us then. "Anyone need anything?" she asked, completely void of emotion, and avoiding looking at Gawain and Medea. Galahad's eyes opened happily when he saw her, but he didn't let me up.

"I do!" Gawain exclaimed, waving his cup so that the ale I'd just poured in it slopped out of the sides. Medea giggled hysterically, and I exchanged a loaded glance with Naveen that left a smile on my face.

"Your cup is full," she replied coldly.

He squinted at her for a moment, and then his smile lit up his face beneath his beard. "Naveen, it's you!" he exclaimed.

Something flickered behind her dead eyes, but what I saw had my eyes darting back and forth between the drunk knight and my best friend at the Wall.

"Good of you to notice," she said sarcastically. She turned to leave, but stopped with a dramatic sigh when she caught my pleading look. She set down her pitcher, and squeezed the back of Galahad's neck with her thumb and forefinger. He squeaked rather girlishly, and let me go. I jumped up, grabbed my tray, and scurried off with Naveen.

"He gets very sentimental when he's drunk," she informed me. "He is ticklish on his neck though. It never fails."

I nodded, and asked casually, "So since when have you had feelings for Gawain?"

"Oh, since last year when he - YOU TRICKED ME!" she roared, swiping at my arm angrily.

I giggled, jumping out of her reach. "You think you are so subtle with your unprovoked rage at him, and your offering of refills!"

She began to splutter insanely. "Well, well…you! You like Tristan!"

I cackled. "Everyone _knows _I like Tristan, Naveen. That's a useless tactic."

She pointed at me with rage sparking in her eyes and opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of loud horns blocked it out.

"What is that?" I asked curiously, looking around.

"Addi!" Vanora exclaimed, bolting out of the kitchen with a big smile. "It's the guards at the Wall! It means Tristan is home!"

Without another thought, I dropped my tray and sprinted out of the tavern. I tripped on the hem of my dress and stumbled when I was near the stables, but pressed on, hoisting up my skirts all the way to my thighs to give my legs more moving room. I pelted down the street, unable to think of anything but seeing him.

I reached the courtyard of the keep, and nearly fainted with relief. Tristan was only yards from me, dismounting his horse and giving the reins to a waiting Jols. Arthur was there as well, greeting him. I was panting from the aftereffects of my run, and quivering with excitement. He was so close.

He spoke to Arthur for a couple of moments, and then Arthur gestured for him to go inside. I hurried forward, nodding fleetingly at Arthur as I did, and darted into the building after Tristan. He turned at the sound of the door shutting, and for awhile we just stood there, looking at each other. His hair hung lank, dirty from his travels, and he certainly could use a good bath.

"How did it go?" I asked calmly, the exact opposite of the way my heart was reacting to him.

"Only three sets of tracks, miles from the edge of the town," he reiterated. "A small hunting party, most likely. Nothing serious. They wanted me to stay though, just in case."

I nodded in response, keeping our eyes locked. I wasn't sure if I should act on the impulse to shove him to the ground and kiss him senseless. I didn't know if he missed me like I had him, and was not keen on making a fool of myself only a few minutes after he got back. I waited, hoping with my whole heart that I wouldn't have to do so long.

He finally took the first step closer, and I took that as my cue to run the rest of the distance, jumping into his arms. He held me up with my legs wrapped around his waist, and my arms held tight around his shoulders. I pressed my face into his neck and breathed in, ignoring the fact that he smelled like sweat and horses. He kissed my shoulder, and murmured something in Sarmatian into my skin. I shivered in response.

He turned around, and started to walk the way he'd been going when I'd run in. I just clung to him, unwilling to let go even though if anyone walked out of their room they'd get a very good view of almost every inch of my exposed legs. When he reached the door to his room, he held me with only one arm in order to turn the knob and push the door open. He kicked it shut behind him, and strode over to the side of the bed. He tipped me down on my back amidst the blankets, and fell on top of me, holding most of his weight on his arms in order not to crush me. When he kissed me, I responded longingly, clutching to his arms like they were the only things keeping me alive. His lips felt urgent on mine as if he were trying to make up for lost time.

He moved from my lips to kiss the scar on my face, and from there he went to my neck, creating burning trails near my throat. I gasped for breath, and when I did, I remembered that he still hadn't taken a bath.

I put both hands on his chest, and pushed him backwards. His eyes were frustrated and a bit wild when he stared down at me, one of his braids tickling my forehead. I pushed it away, wrinkling my nose at him.

"You smell," I told him. I shoved him off, and he rolled on his back next to me. I stood, and went to the wash basin, starting a fire beneath it to warm the water. I turned back, and he was glaring at me. "Don't give me that look. No one wants to kiss a man who smells like fours days worth of travel, sweat, and other manly odors."

He grunted, and blew one of his braids from his eyes. I went back to him, and started to unravel each of the plaits, setting the leather chords aside. He closed his eyes contently as I ran my hands through the mass of brown, trying to get the tangles out.

"You're getting a proper bath tomorrow." His eyes snapped open, and he was glaring again. I shrugged. "You're lucky I am not making you do it tonight, really. So you should be happy."

"Women," he grumbled. I flicked him in the nose, and went to check the temperature of the water. I snuffed out the fire, and beckoned him over. He took off his weapons and put them underneath the armor stand. I helped him shed his armor, and lifted it onto the stand for him, deciding I'd have to clean that later as well. He picked up one of the chairs by the table, and dropped it down next to me, slumping into it.

He shed his tunic, and I smiled inwardly when I didn't blush. He'd taken to sleeping without a shirt the last few nights we spent together, and even though he wasn't any less attractive, the embarrassing effects on me were waning. I dipped a cloth into the warm water, and pushed back his hair with one hand, using the other to scrub at his face. He sat there compliantly, shifting when I asked, but otherwise remaining completely still.

A thought sprung into my mind. I still had so many things to ask him, but never found a right time before. Could there be a better moment than now? We were alone, it was late, and unlikely that anyone would disturb us at this hour. I cleared my throat, and dredged up the courage.

"Tristan?" I asked. He looked up at me. "I think we need to talk."

"About?" he asked. I picked up his hand, and started to scrub at his fingernails.

"Well," I said warily, "first of all, I…have heard some things." I saw his shoulders tense, but just wrung out the cloth, dipped it in the water again, and started to clean down his arm.

"Things," he said slowly. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I replied. He waited for me to elaborate, and I swallowed nervously. "So many people say that you are a skilled fighter, possibly the best of the knights, and they may be right. But others say that…you enjoy killing, and have inflicted unnecessary suffering on your victims because of it." He didn't move an inch, didn't even blink. I hastened to explain myself. "It is rumor, I know, as most of the things said here are. I didn't believe it when Medea's friend told me you wanted to overthrow Arthur and become the leader of the knights because it was ridiculous. Well, actually, I did at first because I was not really familiar with rumors yet. Naveen cleared it up for me that time, but I feel like I know so little about you before we met that sometimes the things they say…they scare me."

He pulled his arm away from me, and stood so that I had to tilt my head back a ways in order to see him. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and the anger felt like it was coming off of him in waves. I just stared up at him, trying not to back away.

"Are you afraid of me, Aderyn?" he asked quietly, straightening his back even more so that he was practically towering over me. My shoulders set furiously, and I resisted the urge to shove him.

"That is not what I said!" I snapped. "That's why I took so long to ask you about this, because I knew you would overreact or take it out of context. Both of which you're doing now!"

I put a hand on either of his shoulders, and pressed down. Though I doubted I possessed the strength to be able to push him down, he complied and sat in the chair again. I resumed washing him, moving up his arms to his shoulders and across the back of his neck.

"I do not enjoy killing," he said suddenly. I froze, staring at the back of his head. "I kill more than the others, and I am better at forgetting it when it is over. When I am in battle, I am a different person. I let go of thought and feeling, and just react." He paused for a moment. "I am exactly what Rome expected when they made the contract with my ancestors: a ruthless machine with no other purpose than to end lives."

I shook my head even though he couldn't see me. "You are wrong," I whispered.

For some reason, I felt a strong desire to cry for this beautiful man. I couldn't see how he could think of himself in such a negative light. I had once thought of all the differences between us, but now I saw so many similarities. Both of us were stripped of our childhood by outside forces, and forced to do things that we didn't want to in order to survive. I was lucky though. I had Drenna. He'd had no one to tell him that he was worth more than what he'd been given. Maybe that's why fate had brought him to me.

I took a deep breath. "Tristan, you are wrong, " I repeated. "Just because you found a method of coping that works for you does not make you ruthless or any less of a good man. Anyone who says differently is a fool, and…I love you. By that I mean every part of you, even the side of you that's tried to kill me."

I walked around to face him, and he stared at me for a moment before reaching out to pull me into one of the softest kisses we've ever shared. I smiled into it, relieved beyond words that he hadn't rejected me when I told him. It was all out in the open for me now.

When he pulled away, I smiled bashfully. "I am glad that's over with. I've been afraid to tell you that."

He raised one eyebrow. "You have already told me you love me."

I blinked confusedly. "Excuse me?"

"You told me the day you woke up in the infirmary, before you went to sleep," he reminded me.

"When I was drugged on healing tonics?" I gasped. I dropped the cloth on his lap, and covered my face to hide the humiliated blush. "Oh, for the love of all that's beautiful, I am the biggest moron in Briton!"

He chuckled at me, and tugged my hands away from my face to look in my eyes. "You do not have to be embarrassed with me," he said quietly, kissing both lines of scars on my wrists.

I nodded, but the blush didn't recede as I picked up the cloth to continue my ministrations to his hygiene. I finished in silence, and used a separate cloth to dry off his torso. He put the chair back, and I removed my boots. I was getting tired, and just wanted to finally have a proper night's sleep now that he was back. I undid the laces on my dress, and let it drop. After folding it over the back of one of the chairs, I pulled back the covers on the bed. Only then did I pay attention to what Tristan was doing. He was digging around in the trunk at the foot of the bed, and pulled something from it. He went to the candle on the dresser, and held something over the flame. It was a needle.

He came over to me, and nodded to the bed. "Lie down," he commanded.

I did, keeping my eyes on him to see what he was doing. Once I was lying down, I understood. He kneeled next to me with a needle and ink, and used the pads of his fingers to lift my chin up. I felt the prick of the needle beneath my jaw, on the left side of my neck just over where my pulse beats. I watched him while he worked, admiring the way the light from the candle behind me danced in his eyes. I was accustomed to the prick of a needle as it marked me from the times Drenna had inked my skin. He stopped for a moment, and tilted my head to get to the other side of my neck. He began again, on the opposite pulse point. We didn't talk. I could only listen to the sounds of his breathing and the fire crackling and wait for him to finish.

It seemed like forever before he was finally done. He stood up, and put the needle and ink back in his trunk. While he did that, I went to the wash basin, and stood over it to see what he'd done. Two triangular marks, almost like claws, were depicted on the pale skin of my neck. They were identical to the ones on Tristan's cheeks.

He suddenly spoke from behind me. "Drenna has her mark on you. Now I do too."

I turned to him, and kissed him, hard. Out of all the gestures he'd made so far, this one was the most obvious statement of his commitment to me. I knew that he had trouble expressing emotion, which was why I hadn't expected him to return the sentiment when I told him how I felt earlier.

Tristan was a bit of an enigma, but I understood that this was his way of letting me know that he loved me too.

**Just a whole bunch of Tristan/Aderyn, you know. (: The next one will be the epilogue, and then that's it for this! There is still the sequel, of course, so don't get too upset. :D**


	34. Epilogue

**My A/N was too long, so it's getting its own little spot after this. So click the next button for news about the sequel and other stuff!**

_"I know you've suffered, but I don't want you to hide. It's cold and loveless. I won't let you be denied. Soothing, I'll make you feel pure. Trust in me. You can be sure. I want to reconcile the violence in your heart. I want to recognize you're beauty is not just a mask. I want to exorcise the demons from your past. I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart. You trick your lovers that you're wicked and divine. You may be a sinner, but your innocence is mine. Please me. Show me how it's done. Tease me. You are the one."-Muse_

*+*Aderyn*+*

It was late, past midnight. I was still at the tavern with Naveen and Elaine. We'd promised to clean up so Vanora could go home early. She'd been working too much for only having a baby two weeks ago. I was wiping the tops of the table, an immobile sneer on my face from the amount of grime the people managed to gather on the surfaces. Part of me was wishing I'd gone with Tristan when he left two hours ago. He wanted to stay behind to walk me back, but I could tell he was tired and told him to leave. Now that I was faced with the prospect of wiping down at least ten more tables, I'd changed my mind.

To my shock, Elaine had started to sing once she was sure we were alone. Her voice was absolutely beautiful, and I would have never expected it from how quietly she spoke. Naveen didn't seem surprised at all, so I guessed she'd heard her before.

She finished her song, and Naveen and I burst into applause, to her chagrin. "You have a beautiful voice," I complimented her.

"Thank you," she murmured, smiling as she picked up abandoned tankards from the ground.

Naveen grinned wickedly, pausing in her sweeping. "I keep telling her that if she sang for Lancelot, she would have him under her thumb like _that_!" She smacked the closest to table to demonstrate her point.

Elaine's face burned crimson. "Naveen!" she gasped, eyes darting to me.

Naveen waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, please, Ellie, it is obvious that you're in love with him. And it's just Addi, she won't tell anyone."

I smiled at Elaine sympathetically. "I have known for awhile now," I admitted. She dumped the empty tankards onto a table, and flopped into a seat.

"So everyone knows?" she asked dazedly, blinking like she was trying to get something out of her eyes.

"Afraid so, darling," Naveen said regretfully, chucking her broom to the floor, and sitting down across from the petite woman.

Elaine groaned, and slammed her forehead into the tabletop. I sat down across from her, dropping my rag next to the tankards.

"I would not put my face on that if I were you," I warned her. "The floor is probably cleaner." She sat back up, grimacing as she wiped her forehead.

"Have you ever actually had a full conversation with Lancelot?" Naveen asked, successfully returning to the subject at hand.

Elaine glared at her, but her size made the gesture less impressive. "Of course I have!"

"What did you talk about?" Naveen quipped.

Elaine blushed again, and began to pick at a loose splinter of wood from the table. "I asked if he wanted a drink, and he told me he did."

There was only a short pause before Naveen burst out laughing. "Is that it?" she asked incredulously, trying to hold back her giggles when Elaine continued to look mortified.

"No!" she snapped. "He asked for something to eat too!"

Naveen's laughs renewed, and I shook my head. "Oh, Elaine," I muttered.

She looked imploringly at me. "You have to understand!" she appealed. "You are with Tristan! It's easier to wrestle a bear than get him to speak a full sentence!"

I shrugged. "It was hard to get him to speak at first, yes. So I talked to him until he talked back. I did not give up on communication with him."

"See?" Naveen said, pointing at me. "That's the key! You cannot give up on conversation, even if you're nervous."

"It's just that he is always with some girl that is much prettier than me," she mumbled sadly. "How could I compete?"

Naveen smacked her leg, making the smaller girl cry out in pain. "I'll hear none of that!" she snapped. "You are one of the best women this side of the Wall, and I won't have you thinking differently. You re the best Lancelot could get, he is just too stupid to see it."

I nodded in agreement, but Elaine looked a bit ticked. "He is not stupid!" she exclaimed.

"He's a man-whore," Naveen stated blandly.

"That is true," I vouched, remembering all the times I'd seen him with women hanging off of either arm.

"He is just flirtatious," Elaine persisted stubbornly. "But I know him, I swear I do. He's passionate and thoughtful and would do anything for those he cares about."

I exchanged a look with Naveen, and we both recognized that this was a losing fight. No matter what we said she would never give up on this infatuation. She was clearly too far gone.

"I give up," Naveen sighed. "I will say one last thing: there are many men who would kill to marry someone like you, and they would actually deserve your love. Now that's the end of it. Let's change the subject. Addi," she turned to me with a sly smirk, "I hear you have spent every night since you got here with Tristan."

"Where did you hear that?" I asked, fighting the blush that wanted to creep up my cheeks.

"Gawain," she answered unconcernedly.

"Of course," I said, making it my turn to smirk. "Everyone knows how much you value the friendship of the dashing Gawain."

Naveen's cheeks reddened, and Elaine started to giggle. "Let's not make this about me. I am not the one bedding the scout."

"Naveen!" I scolded, looking around as if I expected someone to pop up from beneath a table.

"Don't get shy on us," she said. "What is he like?"

"What do you mean?" I asked. "You have met him."

"She means how good he is between the sheets," Elaine elaborated.

I choked on my own saliva, and fell into a coughing fit. They both waited, not asking if I was alright or attempting to help.

When I was gasping for breath, Naveen said, "So?"

I wiped the tears of pain from my eyes, and stared fixedly at the floor. "I am not talking about this."

"I have already been victimized tonight," Elaine pointed out. "It's your turn, and then we will attack Naveen."

"You will not!" Naveen declared. "Anyway, we're waiting, Addy."

I fiddled with the fabric of my dress near my knee, feeling the color rising up my neck and face. This was not a conversation I wanted to have with them, that was for sure. In fact, I didn't want to talk about this with anyone. I even avoided thinking about it.

"Tristan and I…have not actually…," I broke off my mumbled sentence, and looked up. They both looked stunned.

"You have spent every night in bed with Tristan, and have not coupled?" Elaine asked disbelievingly. I nodded.

There was a long pause in which I contemplated running away. "You've got incredible self-control," Naveen said incredulously. "I would have jumped him the first night." I gawked at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Do not give me those innocent doe eyes. You must realize how attractive your man is. He's the mysterious type, and that is…very appealing."

"All she is saying is that we have no clue how you have been near such a handsome man who you love all night without putting the bed to use," Elaine elaborated. Her description did not make me feel better.

"I don't know," I muttered embarrassedly. "I think he is being cautious with me. He hasn't even tried to or suggested it."

Naveen shook her head like she was disappointed. "You are torturing the poor man. He's probably not even going to be able to walk soon."

"Alright, alright, we are done talking about this!" I exclaimed, not even being able to remember being this embarrassed in my life. "Let's move on. Naveen, I seem to recall you mentioning you spoke to Gawain earlier."

She was up in an instant, grabbing her abandoned broom with a stern expression. "You two have got us distracted from our work. Enough dillydallying, get back to your jobs. Or would you like to lose them?"

She began to sweep, turning a deaf ear and blind eye to me and Elaine as we giggled at her flushed face from our seats at the table.

/\/\/\/\/\

The next day I thought a lot about my discussion with Naveen and Elaine. Was I really torturing Tristan? Yes, we did spend a lot of our time attached at the mouth, and he had pulled away looking extremely uncomfortable and left the vicinity a few times. Was that his way of stopping things before he pushed my boundaries? And while we're on that subject, where were my boundaries? They'd given me too much to think about, and all I wanted to do was keep things with Tristan and I as uncomplicated as possible.

I'd received my approval for working at the stables from Severina and a grudging acceptance from Tristan a week ago. Jols was thrilled to have me on, and I'd been slowly adjusting to the work. It was much harder taking care of dozens of horses rather than one. My muscles pained me as they adjusted to the labor, and I'd been spending a lot of time in warm baths with soothing oils to remedy it.

I was cleaning the stall of Dagonet's horse, Pagos, now. He was a lot like his master, utterly calm about everything. I'd let Egryn out while I worked one day, and he'd somehow found out how to unlock the stalls. He'd proceeded to open four of them, including Pagos's. The other horses had scampered out, and it took me nearly an hour to get them back in. Pagos, however, just stood in his like he had absolutely no desire to escape. I'd been extremely fond of him since then.

I heard footsteps, and turned to see Dagonet himself walking towards me. I smiled shyly, and he smiled back.

"Hello," he greeted.

"Hello," I whispered. He walked up to the tethered Pagos, and stroked his neck. "I am sorry. I'm almost done."

"It is fine," he said earnestly. "I just come to see him sometimes. I think he misses the open fields, the ability to go where he wants. He was old enough to remember it when we left Sarmatia."

For a moment, I wondered if he was talking about himself or the horse. He looked extremely sad, and although I barely knew him, I felt a twinge of pain in my heart for this man who so clearly just wanted to go home.

"You are good for Tristan," he said suddenly. "I do not think he cared very much about living or dying before he met you."

I opened my mouth to flounder for some reply to that, but he was already walking away, leaving me there with a flabbergasted look on my face.

/\/\/\/\/\

"Let me get this straight," I said frustratedly. "I come into work on time, and you yell at me to leave because you do not need me for the night. Then you come and get me three hours later to do what I originally came for?"

Naveen nodded brightly, seeming strangely excited. I gaped at her, wanting nothing more than to punch her in the gut. I had bathed, and the top lace of my dress was currently undone because I'd decided to turn in early. My new muscles from working at the stables were burning, and I hadn't seen Tristan since that morning.

"Fine!" I exclaimed, retying the top knot. "You, Nora, and Elaine owe me!"

"I do not think we do," she said slyly, taking off down the hall before I could reply.

I muttered darkly to myself the whole walk back to the tavern, feeling intensely agitated. I'd already decided to blaze through my work, disregarding being friendly to the customers, and just getting everything done so I could go to sleep.

Naveen threw open the tavern doors, and nudged me inside. When I tried to go to the back, she steered me away, shoving me through the crowd despite my protests. I stopped resisting when I noticed all of the knights, even Arthur, were sitting at the table she was guiding me too, along with Vanora and Elaine. A slew of smiles appeared at my approach, and I became extremely suspicious.

"Naveen, what is going on?" I asked. She stopped pushing me when we reached the front of the table. She picked up two goblets of wine from the table, shoving one into my hands, before climbing up on top of the table.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" she called. My searching eyes found Tristan's, but he kept his face carefully blank, taking a nonchalant swig from his goblet.

Once it was quiet, Naveen continued. "I would like to propose a toast," she held out her glass, and looked down at me, "to Aderyn, the newest citizen of the fort. We are here tonight to celebrate her two month survival of residency here. I have not known her long, but I count her as one of my closest friends." She raised her glass higher. "That she may continue to be a great person, and not plan on leaving us soon. To Addi!"

"To Addi!" the whole tavern chorused, raising their glasses. I couldn't close my mouth, I was so amazed. Half the people in here either didn't know me or disliked me because they thought I was a Woad or evil incarnate. I suppose they didn't need a legitimate reason to celebrate though. A group of people near the front struck up instruments, and people cleared a spot for dancing as cheers echoed through the room.

I tried not to, but found myself misty-eyed. "You are celebrating my two months at the Wall?" I asked, voice much higher-pitched than usual. Vanora, Elaine, and Naveen nodded excitedly. "That is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me!"

They squealed, and converged on me in a group hug that nearly broke my ribs.

"Hey, she just got better! Let's not injure her again!" Galahad exclaimed. They let me go, laughing, and Galahad took their place, lifting me off the ground in his enthusiasm. I squeaked in surprise, but he just laughed and set me back down. Gawain stood in front of me now, smiling crookedly.

"Good to have you, kid," he said, affectionately mussing my hair. I swatted at him, and quickly fixed it.

I found myself on the receiving end of kind words from each knight, even Lancelot and Arthur. I had to try harder and harder not to cry, and my smile just got wider. Finally, I was standing in front of Tristan. He grabbed me around the waist, and planted me firmly in his lap. I beamed at him.

"Did you know about this?" I asked, speaking loud to be heard over the music.

"Vanora is hard to deter," he said simply, shrugging.

We hadn't showed much affection towards each other in public, always saving our touches and kisses for when we were relatively alone. But right now, I couldn't help myself. I threw my arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth. For a split second, he didn't respond, but then he did so, pulling me closer by the back of my head. I pulled away when I noticed the whistling and cheering, blushing the same color as a tomato. Tristan glared at them, but not as seriously as he would have normally.

I stared down at my goblet, sniffing the contents. I took my first sip, and coughed, quickly followed by a grimace. I raised an eyebrow at Tristan.

"It is an acquired taste," he explained, taking a deep gulp from his own. I took another sip, and found that it was still as horrible as the first time. Naveen was in front of me suddenly, taking the goblet from my hands and then pulling me away from Tristan.

"Come on!" she giggled, tugging me towards the dance floor. I dug my heels into the ground, violently shaking my head. "Don't fret, I will teach you!"

She brought me to the middle of the floor, and put her hands on my hips, forcing them to move the way she wanted. She told me to copy how she moved her feet, and before I knew it, I was dancing around with the others. I wasn't as good as Naveen, who was fantastic, but I wasn't as bad as I expected either. I laughed with her as we circled each other, feet moving in frenzied motions across the floor. We must have danced to five songs when I was grabbed about the waist, and swung around away from her. I was face to face with a grinning Desiderius as he started to pull me around the floor. I beamed at him happily, allowing him to twirl me around. I caught a glimpse of Naveen laughing ecstatically as Gawain did the same with her.

"I did not know you could dance, Desiderius," I said.

"I am very multi-talented," he laughed infectiously. "I normally don't divulge in the nightlife, but I could not resist coming out to celebrate your second month!"

"Glad to have you!" I called over the music, quickly getting lost in the beat of the music after that.

Once the song ended, I kissed his cheek, and sauntered back over to Tristan's lap. My face was flushed, and I knew I must have been sweaty, but his arms circled my waist immediately. I took a deep drink from my goblet. It made my eyes water, but I was parched.

"Having fun?" he asked.

I nodded. He eyed me for a moment, and then leaned forward to press a kiss on one of the tattoos he'd given me. The movement made something spark in me, and my conversation with Naveen and Elaine came back to me. I knew that Tristan would never make the first move on this front. He didn't want to scare me away, and certainly didn't want me to associate him with the men from my past. I realized that he was waiting for me to make the first move.

It may have been the giddiness in my chest or the effects of the boisterous mood around us, but I knew right then that I was ready to lay with him. I loved him, he loved me, and I knew he would never hurt me like they did.

"I want to go back to your room now," I murmured. He eyed me for a moment, but finally nodded. We slipped away before anyone could try to convince us to stay, and made our way back to the Keep, fingers tightly intertwined.

I'd been through a lot since I met him. I'd lost the woman I'd come to think of as my mother, I'd been mortally wounded, and moved hundreds of miles away to a place where people might not accept me. But with the negatives came the positives. I overcame the loss of my family and managed to move on with my life, I was able to find friends and make a home in a new environment, and I fell head over heels in love. Through all of the turmoil, I came out a better person, and a woman that would have made my family proud. I knew now that Tristan had saved my life in more ways than just getting me to a healer in time when I was hurt. He'd managed to take a scarred, broken child, and make her a strong woman. I felt like the luckiest person in the world.

It was like the real first day of my life, and I couldn't wait to see what fate held in store for me.

**The next one is my final author's note, which is important if you plan to read the sequel!**


	35. Author's Note

**So it's finally come to this. It's over. I can't believe I'm about to put a "Complete" stamp on this. It doesn't even feel real. This is the longest writing project I've ever finished, and it's like I've passed a major life milestone. :') I almost feel like crying.**

**A very, very special thanks to anyone who took time out to review. It means a lot, and you guys may not know it but I always edited according to your suggestions. Your opinions really mean so much to me, and I really appreciate every review, alert, and favorite I received. (:**

**As for the sequel, it won't be posted for awhile. I need to finish Slowly Searching first, but I've got some outline going for the sequel. It's entitled "Have Faith in Me", and the inspiration comes from the song "Have Faith In Me" by A Day to Remember. So check back for it periodically. :) I have updates on my profile, and I post them regularly to let everyone know what's going on with my writing and if there will be delays, stuff like that. I'll keep you guys informed of the sequel's progress that way.**


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